Punished
by DarkObscurity
Summary: Finally COMPLETE! Draco Malfoy is punished harshly for the crimes he supposedly committed at the will of the Dark Lord, but it isn't the Aurors who so condemn him. Scorned by both the dark side and the light, who will rescue him from his torment? Slash.
1. Imprisonment and betrayal

"Dracoooo! Draco! Get in here, _get in here_!"

A fluffy blond head appeared in the doorway, and the dumpy woman smirked at him, her entire face crinkling and molding until she strongly resembled a toad. "There is a customer in need of your assistance."

"Of course, madam," he murmured, ducking his head and shuffling toward her. She waited until he was near her and slapped him across the back of the head. Hard.

He stumbled and fell to his knees, the chains around his wrists and ankles clanking together violently.

"Stop making all that racket, boy!" she sneered, giving him a boot with one of her massive feet. He winced and clamored to his feet, bowing briefly.

"Yes, madam," he repeated, moving away from her quickly. He approached the customer, whose back was turned away from him, and bowed. "How may I be of assistance on this night?" he asked softly.

The customer turned and Draco immediately recognized one of the regular visitors. "Draco! How nice to see you again. I'll have the usual room, I think."

Draco bowed again. "Of course, Master Aldanas. Right this way, please."

Draco showed the suave man to one of the more secluded rooms, bowing him into the familiar space and turning to leave. "Your lady will be here within moments, sir."

"Ah, Draco?" Aldanas piped up smoothly. "Just a moment, please."

Draco froze in the doorway. "Yes, Master Aldanas?"

"I think I'm in the mood for something a little different tonight, Draco."

Slowly, as though every muscle in his young body ached with the action, he turned. "How so, Master Aldanas?" he asked as he turned, and suddenly the visitor was before him.

"I think I'm in the mood for… a blonde, Draco."

Draco's breath left him as fear flooded him. "Is that so, Master Aldanas? I believe I can manage that. If you can wait just a moment…"

The door slammed closed in Draco's face as he tentatively began to move toward it. He gasped and drew away, but that only put him closer to Aldanas.

Draco tensed as he felt a hand clasp his shoulder.

"I think, Draco, that I'm in the mood for you."

"I… I'm s… sorry, s.. sir, but that's j…j… ust not p… p… p… ossible. I have a duty to… to man the front desk… and I just c…"

"You, Draco, have a duty to please the customers, don't you?"

"But… this isn't part of my…"

"How about I call Madam Drowry in here, and she can decide what your job entails? Or did you forget, Draco, that you're a lowly slave here?"

"P…p…please, Master Aldanas, I'm… I'm a…"

"Let me guess, sweet Draco. You're a virgin?"

Tears began to course down his pale cheeks, and he nodded. "Yes, Master…"

"I think I like the way that sounds, Draco," Aldanas cut in. "I think you should say that more often. Much more often."

"Wh… what's that, sir?"

"Yes, master," Aldanas replied coldly.

Draco shuddered, and his composure, though cracked before, shattered completely. "No, please, Aldanas, please! I don't… I don't want to… please, Master Aldanas, I'll do anything, anything but that!"

"No, Draco, my sweet, you'll do this."

"Dracoooo!"

The voice of Madam Drowry split his ears, from directly outside the door.

"Madam!" he bellowed. "Madam Drowry. In here, Madam!"

The door crashed open, sending Draco spilling into Aldanas's arms. "Draco, what is taking you so long?"

"Madam, Master Aldanas is…"

"I have decided, Madam Drowry, that I would like to change my menu, for the night, at least. I have requested that Draco stand in the place of my regular lady, and he seems to harbor some belief that you will save him from this fate. Now, Madam Drowry, if you would please correct him in his thinking and be on your way..?"

Drowry squinted at the terrified Draco, pondering the situation closely. "The fee will be double, Aldanas. He is a virgin, a better…"

"_No! Please, Madam Drowry_!" Draco shrieked, his voice choked with tears. "I'm not…"

"Shut up, Draco!" Drowry snapped. "Now, Aldanas, the fee..?"

"Of course, Drowry, I would be pleased to pay the extra. Draco here is a rare gem indeed."

"If you say so," she murmured, and ducked out of the doorway to Draco's screams.

"No, Madam Drowry, please! You know this isn't my sentence, you know this isn't part of my punishment! Please!" he continued to beg after the closed door, his words broken by sobs.

Aldanas curled his long fingers over Draco's mouth, silencing his objections. "That will be enough, Draco," he hissed, his voice deathly cold.

Draco's sobs continued as Aldanas wrapped his free arm around Draco's waist and began to pull him toward the tiny bed.

"Please, Aldanas, please!"

"Shush, Draco, it's not all that bad."

"Please…"

"Draco, really, now, child. Is this any way for a Death Eater to behave?"

* * *

Harry Potter hunched over the cauldron with a definite pout to his pink lips. His tongue flitted out to moisten those lips, and the three females watching his every move sighed dreamily. He was one of the most stunning wizards they knew, and he had no idea.

"Hold still," he murmured as one fanned herself dramatically to show their mutual attraction toward the raven haired boy, and instantly he was obeyed. They smirked but watched intently as Harry held a squishy substance over the cauldron, watching as he measured the precise moment and amount of the liquid he squeezed from the spleen of something, they didn't care to remember what… or was that liver?

The door swept open and the most terrifying creature they'd ever seen strode into the room. The three females gasped and flew from the stools they were perched on to cower behind Harry, who remained utterly calm, dripping precise amounts into the bubbling liquid below.

The newcomer strode toward them, a scowl on his otherwise handsome face, his eyes fixed on the spleen in Harry's hand.

One of the trio of blondes tapped Harry's arm tentatively, motioning toward the man. "What's he doing…"

"Quiet," Harry reminded them calmly, watching as another timed drop from the spleen plopped into the very center of the cauldron.

The second blonde, bolder and quick to anger, not to mention a bit less enthralled, though still sufficiently so, with Harry, slapped Harry's arm and opened her mouth to chide him for being rude.

The next drop from the spleen was an instant earlier than it should have been and was thrown off center.

"Son of a bitch!" Harry hissed, and shoved the three women to the ground with a sweep of his arm. The boldest cried out in objection and instantly began to push herself upright again.

A resounding blast echoed through the tiny room and the two men were covered from hair to waist in the now gooey potion. Harry blinked hard and spat a bit away from his lips, while the other man shook his long hair to prevent it from dripping obnoxiously onto his shoulders.

The trio of women, who had been spared sufficiently by being on the floor, stared in open-mouthed horror as the two men stood in shocked silence, staring around.

The bold blonde, whose name Harry was unsure of, though he remembered an M being attached to it, stood slowly, helping her fellow females to their feet.

"I'm s…"

"Quiet," Harry murmured, but the damage was done.

"If you even _think _of opening those falsely red lips to apologize for this mess, I will personally curse you to oblivion. Did you not see fit to read the rules for these types of lessons? Our workers are not here for you to fawn over, they are here to make you potions, and on occasion, allow you to watch the process. How _dare _you make a mockery of us and our practice by using it to look your fill at our Potter… and why are you still here?" the murky man hissed, his anger a palpable weight in the air. "Get the bloody hell out of my store!"

The three blondes scampered to the door, skirting around him as they would a cave full of writhing snakes, not knowing how close to the truth that idea had a tendency to be.

Harry watched them go, an amused glint in his eyes, until they were halfway down the block with no chance of wanting to return.

His eyes left the fleeing females to alight on the man across the cauldron from him.

"I told you it would be safer to put your name on the sign, that way they know what they're walking into," he chided, and the other figure threw up his hands to wave away the annoyingly redundant reminder.

"Yes, yes, Potter, but for some reason 'Snape's Secret of Potions' just doesn't have the right sound to it… I'd probably be raided three times a week by the Ministry, thinking I had some secretive potion." he flicked his wand at himself, his lips spilling out a few words to rid himself of the goo, then wrinkled his nose and politely did the same for Harry.

"I still say we rename the store entirely," Harry reminded him gently.

Severus curled a lip at him. "Yes, I know. That's why I don't want to," he murmured, turning on his heel and striding toward his office.

Harry laughed, knowing that Snape had only turned away to hide a teasing smile. "Sure, old man, that's what you say, I think you're just scared of change…"

"Clean up your mess, Potter," Severus snarled, and there was no laughter in his voice, though it seemed that the youth heard it loud and clear.

Harry trotted after Severus, chuckling. "I didn't do it!" Harry whined, and Severus snorted.

"Well I sure as bloody hell didn't, either, so flip the sign so your fan club will leave you alone long enough, and clean it up."

Harry laughed. "Yea, yea, whatever."

He turned from the office with a false pout and tugged his wand from the compartment he kept it in when he was working. He waved it effortlessly, his mind only partly on the task, and flicked the sign over from its current position of 'Public Potions In Progress', though instead of flipping it to 'Closed', as Severus had suggested, he counted on the idea that he could hurry with the cleanup, and so the sign outside read 'Associates Standing By.'

He bustled off to flick his wand adamantly at some of the more stubborn spots, murmuring a steady stream of spells under his breath to make the process easier.

The little charm on the door tittered musically, and in strode a couple, hands clasped nervously together.

Harry looked up from what he was doing smilingly, yet the instant he spotted the flaming red hair atop the head of the man who entered, he turned on his heel, striding toward his office, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Snape, you have customers," Harry said, his powerful voice carrying to the back office.

The redhead lunged forward and snatched at Harry's wrist, refusing to let go even when Harry flicked his wrist in irritation.

"Let go of me!" Harry snarled, yet the redhead held fast.

"We need to talk," he replied calmly.

Severus strode into the room, his eyes narrowed. "Unhand my charge, boy, or…"

"Or what, you'll curse me?" the redhead snapped. "I got over it the first time, I'll do it again."

"Or I'll kill your sniveling ass," Severus snarled, his voice deepening dangerously, and suddenly the redhead knew he spoke the truth. His grip fell lax and Harry was able to jerk his wrist away.

"Get out of my store," he demanded, and the redhead seemed to shrink before their eyes.

"Ron," the woman whimpered, and tugged on the redhead's wrist.

Harry took in the curly brown hair, much tamer then it ever was when they went to school, and curled his lip. "Hello Hermione, still as snobbish as ever?"

"You cowardly bastard," she hissed, taking a step forward. "Hiding behind your darkness here." She motioned toward Severus as though he were a dog, not a true part of the conversation.

"I hide behind nothing, '_mione_," he spat. "I especially don't hide behind supposed ignorance."

"You presume to call me a coward?" she scoffed. "I have never hidden behind my name quite as adamantly as you, _Harry Potter_."

He strode toward her until his body was nearly flush with hers, so close that a slight breeze would press them together.

"And where were you, Hermione Granger, when they were killing Dumbledore?"

She took a startled step backward, the horror on her face so strong, and the fumbling step so pronounced a passerby would think he'd stricken her.

"How dare you!" she hissed, her voice shrill.

Ron stepped between Harry and Hermione. "Leave her out of this, Harry."

"She made herself a part of this," Harry retorted. "The day she stormed into my goddamned compartment."

Ron's face fell, the anger leaking out of him instantly, replaced by grief for memories tainted and dreams left unfulfilled.

"Don't try to make our years at Hogwarts out to be a big mistake, Harry," he murmured, and his voice was pleading and endlessly sad.

"They were a mistake!" he exploded. "Everything in my life is a mistake! I left you in charge while I went to save the others, I trusted you to be fair! Your supposed ignorance cost dozens their lives! And where are they now, Ron, where did they vanish to? What kind of hell are they in? Did you even listen to their pleas, Ron? Did you hear them say they were under a spell? Did you hear them plead for their lives? Did you hear the children screaming, Ron? Or did you just recline in your comfy office and dish out orders?"

"You know that's a lie!" Ron huffed. "I never gave those orders, I never told anyone to move yet! They moved without my orders, nobody listened to me. You think I don't regret that day every day of my life, Harry? You think the idea doesn't haunt me? Do you think I don't hate that day more than I hate anything else in the world?"

"Not more than you hate me," Harry pointed out harshly.

Ron gaped open-mouthed. "I don't hate you," he declared, shocked at the idea.

Harry cocked a dark eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe," he spat, and Hermione stepped forward.

"Harry, that's why we came today. We… we wanted to invite you over… we're… it's…"

Ron patted her hand comfortably. "We're having a baby, Harry, and we want you to be there when we announce it to the others."

Harry glared at him coldly, schooling his features so that they never left his stoic façade to abandon him to the shock he felt jolting through his bloodstream. They were inviting him over to announce their baby? Why?

He voiced the question.

"We… well, Harry, mate, you have always been… well, always were, my best friend, both of our best friends. We want you to be his godfather."

"His?"

"It's a boy."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You have no right to ask that of me," he snarled, and turned away sharply. "Find those people, find the prisoners, the guards, all of them. I was responsible for them, and I set you in charge, and you failed me. Find the missing ones, and then we'll talk."

"I never gave the order, Harry. Please, mate, you have to believe me! Listen to me, Harry. You were my best friend, I would have died before I hurt you!"

"The only way I will ever believe that is if you _find my men_!" Harry exploded. "People looked to me to protect them, all of them, and now they're gone! I have no idea where five dozen men went, half of them being guards, the Order's best women! Tell me how I'm supposed to live with myself with that kind of responsibility on me!"

Ron let the ensuing silence stretch, his breathing ragged and eyes hurt. "But what if I can't find them?" he whimpered.

Harry turned sad eyes to him. "Then you'll never see me again."

Ron lowered his eyes, nodding. "I know."

"I'm sorry I ever put you in that position, Ron," Harry offered, and again, Ron nodded.

"I know."


	2. lead to loss of innocence and trust

Draco lay stunned on the bed long after Aldanas left him there. He never remembered being in more pain than the minute Aldanas had shoved his way into him, not bothering to prepare him or making any effort to make the process less painful. Aldanas had known exactly what he was doing, he'd known that he would be putting Draco through agony, knew the kind of pain it would be, but he hadn't cared. In fact, he seemed to revel in the idea that he had the power to inflict such pain on another being.

After several hours Draco forced his limbs into action, pushing himself away from the grubby bed and standing, pulling his pants back on, though the action sent pain lancing though his ass. He whimpered, freezing in an attempt to grow accustomed to the pain, then made himself move forward, wanting desperately to leave the horrible room. He had nearly made it to the door when it crashed open, and Drowry swept in, slamming it closed and locking it again.

"Oh, hello, darling Draco. How are you, love? Feeling a little…"

"Shut… up…" he growled, attempting to push past her, his anger at her swelling to chase away the pain still stabbing at him.

She cackled and stepped in front of him, shoving him backward and pulling out her wand. He instinctively began to lunge at her, but froze when he saw the unwavering wand trained on him.

"What's wrong, lover? You afraid to confront someone if they can use magic? Surely you of all people would be brave enough to stand up to a wand?"

"I won't borrow trouble, Drowry. State your purpose and leave me the hell alone."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's no way to speak to me, Draco."

He bit his lip and forced himself not to lash out at her.

She pursed her lips and clicked her tongue. "I have an offer for you, Draco," she purred, swaying closer to him.

He took a wary step backward as she invaded his personal space, stalking toward him with a lecherous glint in her eyes.

"What kind of an offer is that, Drowry?"

She traced her fingertips across his chest, plucking at the corner of material where the buttons didn't quite reach, and ran her tongue across her lips.

"I won't sell you to any more of these monsters that keep coming in here to claim you…" She paused, letting the silence stretch, letting him get used to the idea.

"If?" he demanded, not letting himself get excited. There had to be a catch.

She purred with laughter. "If… why think on that, love? There are at least seven more, waiting, impatient, in the lobby. But if you agree…"

"What's the catch, Drowry?" he snarled, interrupting her spiel.

She rolled her eyes. "You sleep with me."

* * *

Severus winced as yet another stack of books was roughly slammed onto the counter. He hadn't wanted to say anything, but those books hadn't done anything to Harry.

"Harry?" he called, and instantly the boy was in the doorway.

"Yes, sir?"

Severus grimaced. "You haven't called me 'sir' in your entire life, Harry, unless I twisted your arm for it. Don't start now."

Harry lowered his eyes. "Alright."

"Get out of the store," Severus continued, in a voice that he perceived to be gentle. "Go…"

"I won't call you 'sir' again, Severus, I promise, I'm just…"

"This isn't a punishment, Harry, this is a suggestion. You're tearing yourself up because you were harsh with Weasley and Granger."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I am not, they deserved it."

"Who are you trying to convince, Harry?"

Harry froze. "You…"

"Are very wise. Just go ahead and say it, Harry. I know you too well after… how many… years of being holed up in this dump with you."

Harry's lips twitched. "You are a sniveling bastard, Snape. You knew all along why I was in such a pissy mood."

"It's been four days and you're still slamming books around, Harry. Yes, I kind of caught on. You haven't thrown a temper like that since sixth year."

Harry chewed his lip. "They were my only friends, Sev."

"I know that."

"I never wanted to lose them."

Severus nodded.

"I…" Harry stopped, tossing a glance at the main area of the store.

"Go on, Potter, go ahead and say it all. Forget about the store for one minute." He flicked his wand and Harry heard the sign clank into the 'Closed' position.

Harry moved to sit in the chair in front of Severus's desk with a sigh. "I thought that Ron had turned against me intentionally by going against my orders. I thought he wanted to hurt me by hurting my people. But now…" he trailed off, unsure of how exactly to say what he was feeling.

"But now you're not so sure that it was his call. You're thinking that maybe someone was trying to break the Golden Trio up, and stole the guards and prisoners out from under him in hopes that you would blame him."

Harry looked at Severus in awe. "Since when were you so intuitive?"

Severus chuckled. "I always have been, but that's not how I know what you're thinking. I know what you're thinking because I am, too. Weasley made quite the convincing argument."

"What do I do? I want so badly to believe him, to forgive him, yet I can't just forget about all those people. They depended on me. I was supposed to save them, but I couldn't."

"You did save them, you saved us all, from Voldemort. But there was another evil at work, Harry. An evil that was much more subtle than Voldemort or his gang. They wanted to hit you where it would truly hurt, and they succeeded."

"So you think I was being foolish by what I said to Ron?"

"No, I think it is a good idea to get a search party revved up again, it's about that time. And that boy, now that he's stronger and has hope of renewing his friendship with you, will be quite the force to be noticed. He looked ready to storm the gates of hell in search of all that you want, Harry. It'll be good to have that kind of determination at the head of a search."

"But what if he can't find them? What if none of us can?"

Severus thought for a moment, his long pale fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully. "If they cannot be found, then you have to decide which you feel the need to hold on to, your anger toward the situation, or your love for your best mate."

Harry smirked. "You don't sound like you know which I should go with, or anything," he accused.

"Forgive me for being biased, but you were never happier than when you were at Hogwarts with those two."

Harry cocked his head. "I'm happy here," he objected.

Severus negated that with a chuckle. "No, you're content here. You were happy at Hogwarts, truly happy, even if I was there to dampen your joy sometimes."

Harry smiled at his old professor. "You know what? If I didn't know any better, I'd accuse you of caring about me," he teased, and Severus smiled.

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly manage that, you're far too flighty."

Harry laughed. "You crazy old bastard."

"That I am."

Harry sobered with a sigh. "You think I should forgive Ron and Hermione. But… I don't know how to. I don't know how to not blame them, because the only other person I could blame is myself."

"Or whoever actually did it," Severus pointed out patiently. "It is possible to blame an unknown identity."

"I don't know if I can."

Severus smirked. "Then I will find someone to blame."

Harry cocked a raven brow.

Severus lowered his eyes. "Ronald spoke to me in private a pair of weeks after the incident. He pleaded with me to believe him. You know how convincing he can be. He begged that I look for the person truly responsible. I've searched for the last year and a half."

"And you still haven't found anyone? Doesn't that make you think that maybe there is nobody to find?"


	3. in more devastating ways than realized

Draco shivered slightly as the chill of the air struck him, but he didn't falter. As much as his pride wanted him to object to his arrangement, he knew that no matter what, said pride would be shattered, the only question was, how much pain would he have to endure before that happened.

He clasped the chain on his left wrist, then pressed his right wrist into the opposite manacle, which snapped together automatically.

The door swept open, yet there was a moment of stillness before Drowry appeared, stark naked, grinning wildly. Draco shuddered at the cold look in her eyes, but he knew that the alternative was not worth it. He was not a lover of men, nor was he a lover of pain, and he would have to endure much of both if he denied Drowry this.

She strode toward him, smirking and licking her lips, and lowered herself none too softly onto the bed beside him. She lowered her mouth to his to grace his lips with a sloppy kiss, then, getting straight down to business, lowered her head to his crotch. She took him into her mouth, the heat and experience of her tongue eventually bringing him around, even though his mind still protested disgustedly. He was in no way attracted to Drowry or her kind.

She brought him to full attention, then straddled him, and, with no hesitation, impaled herself on his manhood. He gave a little gasp as she did this, more in pain than anything, as she brought her full weight down upon him with the action. She ran her fingertips across his chest, toying with his nipples idly, as she drove herself repeatedly onto him. He endured it with disgust, watching her ride him with abandon, her saggy breasts flopping grossly in his face.

She finished relatively quickly, coming with a scream, while he was still utterly unimpressed. She cackled as she moved off of him, snapping the manacles off of his wrists and shoving him out of the room.

For two weeks straight he visited her nightly, enduring her attentions with obvious disgust, yet she never seemed to mind his inattention. She would pleasure herself atop him, set him loose, and call him back the next night.

Until the night of the fifteenth day.

He wandered the halls of his prison idly, paying no heed to his surroundings and even less attention to the time, for he had plenty of time to get to Drowry.

One of the darkest hallways within the house is home to the most private rooms available. These rooms cost twice the initial fee for the seclusion, thus they are not often used, as many of the customers find that the regular rooms are sufficient. These private rooms are where Draco roamed, in the dark silence of the deepest bowels of the house. Silence and darkness had always been his only friends. At Hogwarts none of the Slytherins had ever really been his friends, they had feared him, feared his father, but they had never liked them, and though he had never really liked them either, it would have been welcome to be truly accepted by someone. In his Hogwarts years he had always been rather confused, his interests brutal and hateful, quick-tempered and rebellious. But he'd grown, he'd broken away from his childlike point of view, broken away from his father's point of view, and become what he was today. A strong good wizard, a loyalist to the Ministry of Magic, a…

_A whore. Prostitute. Someone who give his body to avoid pain by another man. How again is that strong? How can you stand here and claim to be strong and good when at the first sign of pain you'd trembled and scurried away like some kind of little bitch? How can you claim to be strong when you hid behind your madam to escape the clutches of those men in the waiting room? How do you know she wasn't making it all up?_

The idea struck his self-hating mind out of nowhere, and he froze for an instant. What if she _was_ making it all up?

Something much harder than an idea, as well as much more solid, struck the back of his head with a sickening thud, and he was pitched forward onto the floor. He prevented his head striking the floor by catching himself with his forearms, but that only served to send pain radiating up his elbows and arms to his shoulders. He grunted on impact but forced himself into action, spinning onto his back and narrowly avoided the swing of the splintered wood which he recognized as the legs to one of the chairs.

He kicked out, a loud and surprised grunt from his attacker echoing down the corridor as a reward. He rolled onto his stomach and leapt to his feet, spinning with a powerful roundhouse to send his opponent reeling into the nearest doorway. The wood splintered and broke, but something else was there to prevent the stranger's fall. He straightened up, and Draco could dimly make out the form of another man behind him. They strode into the hallway, strong, large, confident men, and another came out of the room as soon as they vacated. Then another. Another.

The sound of footsteps behind him made him whirl to find twice as many men pouring from the private rooms behind him.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his heart rate racing and his pulse jumping onto his tongue.

They closed around him wordlessly, and he struck out again, sending the front man stumbling into those behind him, but his desperate attempts were futile. There were men three deep, shoulder-to-shoulder, fanning the hallway.

The first several men lunged forward, dragging a struggling Draco to the ground, and then more were suddenly there, pouncing atop him, striking him at every available patch of body that wasn't being struck by one of the others.

He was late to Drowry's bedroom that night. She never gave him the chance to explain himself, she just wrinkled her nose at him and forced him to his room, and not fifteen minutes later his first visitor arrived.

He recognized his first visitor as one of the men from the hallway, and throughout the day each and every one of his attackers made an appearance in his chambers.

His screams of fury and agony were lost within his pillow as the men made their mark on him once again.

And from that moment forward, his life was purely hell. Every day men came to him, and every day he was forced to endure their enthusiastic attentions, chained to the tiny bed Drowry allowed him.

It was one of the most vicious who revealed their motive to the battered Draco. Drowry had sworn to remove most of her protection from Draco in exchange for them detaining him in any way possible on that day. Apparently she had had her fill of him and desired to make money off of him instead.

Every day he longed for his wand to curse Drowry into oblivion.

* * *

From the main room there echoed a resounding boom, followed by the tinkling of glass on the shop's floor. Harry shot from the desk behind which he had been filing and raced toward the main area, only to find their beautiful, intricate stained glass door in shambles around the form of a trembling blond man. Ronald Weasley stormed in the doorway behind him, an angry red storm, red hair seemingly enhanced by the red of his face.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, storming over to where Ron was heaving the man to his feet bodily. Ron's eyes flashed daggers and Harry halted some feet away.

"He said he's seen some of them," Ron growled, and for the life of him, Harry couldn't imagine seeing Ron so angry before. He instantly regretted ever suggesting that Ron find the missing men, and would have done anything, in that moment of watching Ron's inhumanly furious eyes, to take away that drive and anger.

"Seen who?" Harry questioned, not going any nearer the pair. The blond man was whimpering and his voice sounded thick.

Ron spun the man around to shove him toward Harry, who got a good look at why the man's voice sounded thick. His face was a bloody mass, torn and bleeding, as though Ron had taken a knife to it.

"Tell him," Ron snarled, and dug his fingers into the man's shoulders until he whimpered and writhed.

"I saw… the guards… some of the guards, the females. They were taken prisoner, into a…" he trailed off, seeming lost for words.

"Tell him!" Ron bellowed, and the man cowered.

"They are sold as prostitutes. They are kept at a house…" his voice trailed off, replaced with whimpers and sobs.

"How did you find this out, Ron?"

Ron shook his head. "You don't need to know that. He told me where they were, and that's all that matters."

"What have you done, Ronald?"

"Nothing more than I had to," he evaded, and gave the man a shake. "He didn't know their names, but he said that there were at least thirty ladies that they were holding in this place."

Harry sighed. "I don't want to know what you did, do I?"

"Something I should have done two years ago."

"Did you use…"

"You shouldn't have to ask that, Harry. I thought you knew me better than that. I would never use any of the Unforgivable Curses."

Harry cocked a dark brow and nodded toward the whimpering man. "I thought I knew you, too."

Ron lowered his eyes and sighed. "I care more about our friendship than I do about my peace of mind, but… I wouldn't use those curses."

Harry nodded. "Good." He nodded to the man. "Who is he?"

"Name's Maxamno. He said he was passing by the house when he saw a few of the guards trying to get out."

"Then why is he in such a sorry state?"

"He didn't want to come forward."

Harry sighed. "Right. Do we have anything on him? Any reason to suspect…" Harry froze. He was behaving like the leader he used to be, the leader he was when he and Ron were still best mates. He was behaving like the last two years hadn't happened.

Ron's grasp on the man's shoulder loosened considerably. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Harry retracted, reeling.

"No, you said…"

"I know, old habits die hard," he responded hotly.

Ron let the silence stretch, then gave Harry a lopsided grin. "They don't have to be old habits."

"Yes, they… what do you mean?"

"The Ministry has been trying to get you back in office for months, Harry, they kept sending you letters and trying to call, but you never responded. You're telling me you never got any of it?"

Severus cleared his throat. "No, I kept the letters from him, Ronald. He wasn't ready for that step yet."

"You… what?" Harry questioned, turning on Severus.

"Don't expect me to feel bad about it, Harry. I wanted you to actually consider it, you were great where you were. I knew you wouldn't want to after what happened, so I wanted to give you time to calm down."

"Time to calm down?" Harry rasped. "You… but I… I don't even know if I would want to even _now_."

"That's why I haven't brought it up yet," Severus responded meaningfully, shooting Ron a glance.

"Well I'm sorry, I didn't know!"

Harry waved it away. "Just shut up, both of you, that isn't important right now. I just want to deal with finding those people and then we'll deal with the rest."

Severus bowed his head. "Wise decision, Mr. Potter."

"Now, about the guards," Harry urged, turning to the blonde. He motioned for him to continue, and Ron loosened his grip to allow the man to speak.

Maxamno took a shuddering breath. "I recognized some of your guards, so I went inside to check it out. There are at least thirty, I couldn't… after a while they all started looking alike, they were all dressed the same…"

Harry sighed. "But what about the others, the prisoners? We've lost thirty prisoners and we don't have any idea where. For all we know they could be loose in the Muggle world."

Maxamno shook his head. "I don't think that's entirely true," he amended. "The people in charge seemed to be hell-bent on the idea that the prisoners were all in one area, not necessarily as prisoners, though. They insisted that the prisoners couldn't be happier. I think they were given some type of paradise to live in…"

"How exactly did you find out so much?" Harry questioned, his dark brows hidden in his raven hair.

The blonde stuttered. "I pre… pretended to be one of them."

"And how exactly did you prove yourself to be trustworthy? And if you did went through all the trouble of finding all this out, why did you not want to come forward?"


	4. when new pains and new weapons are tried

**_A/N: Thank you Ali! Hope you enjoy!_**

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen… Thirty-three… Fifty-five…

Surely it would be over soon.

Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty.

Scream. Heat flooding him, one last violent thrust, the deepest and hardest yet.

The surly man atop him dismounted, pulling himself none too gently from Draco's abused ass.

He bent over his victim, giving him a sharp blow to the ass and running his tongue along Draco's chin.

"See you next time," he whispered sweetly, and Draco moaned dismally. "Don't worry, baby. Next time, I'll get you out of here. I'll get you out of here, and you'll never have to endure any of these other assholes again. It'll just be you and me."

Those words were beginning to mean less and less to Draco. The first time he'd heard them, from a very lanky redheaded boy with the look of a dog, he'd been terrified. What if someone really did remove him from the house? At least Drowry had a strict policy of 'Never Damage Beyond Reason,' which she for some reason kept up for him even though she seemed to hate him very much indeed. But if someone stole him from beneath Drowry? What horrors could they inflict on his emaciated form? What could they do to him before they ultimately killed him, or, worse, how long could they keep him alive to inflict those horrors upon him? The possibilities were endless, and terrifying, but he'd come to ignore the promises. They were whispered at least thrice a day, yet nothing ever came of it. A little flitter of panic set itself into motion in his chest still, each time he heard the words, but he swept it away. Nobody could get him past Drowry. Nobody would try. She was very powerful, for such a seemingly fickle woman. She was the type to protect her investments well.

At least, Draco prayed that she was powerful enough to keep him. Life with several men on a leash was better than life with one man off his leash, Draco figured.

* * *

"Damn!" 

Severus smirked. "It's not as easy as it looks, is it?" he questioned, and Harry chuckled.

"I never said it was," he retorted.

Severus bowed his head and strode toward Harry. "Look, you're gripping it wrong. You have to grip it like _this_ when you have two. Otherwise they collide too easily."

Harry adjusted his grip on the bullwhips without question, trusting, and waited until Severus was again across the room until he set them into motion again.

He gave them each a quick snap, then began to swing them in complex patterns, a smile spreading across his lips as the new grip seemed to work. He allowed his arms to work with their own minds, not really thinking too hard about the paths the whips were taking, for when he thought about them, they tended to collide.

He waited until he was comfortable with the movement and then instructed the left-hand whip to lash out at a specified target, sending it crashing into the little clay statue of a man. He brought it back around, swinging in for a second hit as the right-hand one reared back for a first chance at the supple clay. Within minutes the clay statue was reduced to a crumbled mass of clay, and Severus was clapping softly, proudly, and Harry was bringing the whips to a still with a snap.

"Bravo!" Severus laughed, his hands finally falling to his sides. Harry bowed, blushing and chuckling.

"You're getting better, Harry, I'm impressed."

"I have the best teacher in the world, of course I'm improving."

Severus snorted. "Oh, yea, right, you're just trying to flatter me so I keep teaching you," he accused.

Harry gasped, mockingly appalled. "What? Me? Never!"

Severus narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Just keep practicing, you little shit," he goaded, and Harry laughed as he set the whips into motion once again.

Harry turned completely away from Severus, turning to the next clay statue, starting in on it, changing his tactics to practice everything he knew using one whip, with two.

He didn't see the door open, and Ron slink through it, eyeing the whips warily, and striding to stand next to Severus.

"I didn't know he knew how to use whips like that," he murmured over the cracking and hissing of Harry's movement.

Severus smirked. "Yeah, he's learning."

"He's good."

"Yes, he is."

Ron quirked an eyebrow. "Why is he learning to use whips? What's wrong with his wand?"

Severus curled his lip. "Oh, nothing at all, but our dear Harry has made a spell to create whips from thin air, and he likes the idea."

"But… why whips? They're mostly used for…"

"Don't go there, Ron. Harry has his reasons. He refuses to use _crucio_ so he has to have something."

Ron bowed his head in assent, turning his head to watch Harry annihilate the soft clay dummy.

With one last, theatrical crack, the whips fell to his sides and he turned, grinning. His eyes flickered briefly as they fell on Ron, questioning.

"Wow, mate, who knew you were so good?" Ron questioned, and Harry smiled faintly, his eyes still wary.

"What were you two talking about?" he asked.

Severus snorted. "Ron wanted to know why you were learning to use whips. I had to reassure him you weren't going to torture him anytime soon."

Ron's eyes flew wide and he gave a little gasp. "I didn't think that!" he breathed, his eyes bearing into Severus, then flickering to Harry. His horrified expression melted when he saw Harry laughing.

"Gotcha," Severus purred, and motioned Harry over.

Harry wound the whips as he strode toward them, still laughing at the horrified look on Ron's face.


	5. and new players learn to play rough

Draco shuddered and shook, his lip bleeding and his face deathly pale. He stared around the walls at the empty room, not really seeing anything, not the grubby little bed in one corner, not the creaky door opposite it leading to a detestable bathroom, not the cat-flap in the main door through which his paltry rations had been tipped.

The door creaked open and Draco's pulse sped, though he didn't bother to turn toward the sound. He knew who it was, it was no use…

"Draco Malfoy?!" a soft female voice gasped, and Draco jerked, spinning to face the newcomer.

She stepped into the room and closed the door gently, her small feet carrying her across the small room on tiptoe, her footsteps silent and wary. She stopped a few feet from Draco, tensely examining him.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, careful not to be heard by anyone who happened to be passing by.

"Who are you?!" he demanded hoarsely, unable to see her face, as the overhead light was burnt out and the only light offered came from below the bathroom door.

She stepped a bit closer, crouching down to seem less overbearing, though she, with her slender five-foot-four frame, was unaccustomed to being seen as such.

"Who are you!" he demanded, curling his legs in more tightly to his body, shying away in acute fear.

She shushed him softly, murmuring words of reassurance. "It's me, Draco, Padma Patil. We went to Hogwarts together, you remember? We were in the same year."

Draco shuddered and nodded, yet still trembled and scrambled further into himself, shaking his head in denial, when she shuffled toward him with her hand outstretched.

She halted, her hand falling away. "What's wrong? Draco, I won't hurt you."

He shook his head again, pressing himself more firmly into the wall.

"What's wrong? I won't hurt you, Draco, I swear it, I want to help you…"

"Why?" he questioned, eyes a little too wide.

"I…" she seemed shocked by the questioned. "Because you look like you could use a friend."

"B… but you… you h… hated me at Hogwarts. You a… you all did."

Her brows drew together and she frowned. "Yes, I know, but you…"

"But everybody thou… I was a Voldemort supporter. You must… hate me… more, now. Everyone assumed…"

"You were one of the prisoners?" she gasped, withdrawing sharply. Draco winced and lowered his head.

"Yes, I was one of the… prisoners."

She scrambled backward, falling to her ass and still reeling. "But… I…"

"Don't act like you're surprised," he spat, his bitterness plain in his every word. "Everybody expected me to be Voldemort's favorite little bitch."

Padma halted her frantic scuttling and eyed him warily. "Wait… then…" she stood once again, but didn't go any closer to him. "You… why are you _here_, then? All of Voldemort's people were taken somewhere else, they were given an island to be free on… why are you here, if you were working for Voldemort?"

"Because I _wasn't_ working for Voldemort!" Draco hissed, and Padma stared, expecting something more.

When she didn't get more information she shook her head. "Wait, but I thought you said you were."

"No, I said everyone _thought _I was."

"But you weren't."

"No, I was trying to get information for Harry Potter's little gang, and I knew that Voldemort had started scanning his follower's brains periodically, so I didn't want to go to Harry until I had sufficient information, because I knew that if I went to Harry Voldemort would see it. But the raid happened too quickly, and I was never able to get to Harry to tell him my plans. I was never able to prove my innocence, or even claim it. Weasley whisked us all aw…"

"Ronald did not do this!" she declared hotly. "Don't you think the prisoners would have…"

"I'm not claiming that sweet, innocent little Ronald Weasley planned this out," Draco interrupted.

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

"I'm saying that a cold-blooded beast did this, he sent the prisoners to paradise and left the guards and loyalists to rot here."

"Who, then, if not Ron?"

Draco laughed bitterly. "I never said I didn't suspect Ron, I said I don't think Ronald was ever sweet or innocent."

She narrowed her eyes. "You couldn't possibly be thinking that Ron planned this out since his first year at Hogwarts, Malfoy," she snarled.

Draco snorted. "No, I never said that, I just mean to say that Ron used his close ties with Potter to manipulate the poor bastard into doing everything he wanted."

"You mean…"

Heavy footsteps sounded from just down the hallway, and Padma froze in terror. Spinning to face the door, she rushed across the room to exit, but was too late. The knob jiggled as someone attempted to enter, but Madam Drowry's voice halted the movement. "Here's the key, Haiman."

Padma spun to face Draco, who was on his feet and moving toward her rapidly. He placed a chill hand across her lips, holding her still with a hand on her arm, and motioned toward the small bathroom door. She acknowledged his instructions with a nod and as soon as he released her, she bolted silently into the room, the door sliding closed with a barely audible click, and slid the lock home. Draco retreated further into the room, away from both doors, to take up his usual post, crouched in the corner.

The key clicked through the lock and the door snapped open, the form of a man lumbering into the room. He was of an average build, slender yet muscular, and wore his hair long enough to brush his shoulders. Draco looked up from his feet to acknowledge the man, then, as was his custom, buried his face back in his arms.

"Greetings, Draco, my name is Haiman."

Draco looked up and wrinkled his nose at the man. "What do you want?" he demanded with false bravado.

The man smiled, and all of his intentions were etched in that cruel movement. "Why, you, Draco. I want you."

He moved further into the room, Madam Drowry scampering in after him and closing the door.

"Draco, Draco, you are my new prized possession! Master Haiman here is going to pay six times the regular fee for you. Six times!"

Draco's blood ran cold. Drowry wouldn't try to wheedle that much out of someone unless he was asking for something particular.

"What… what's he going to do to me?" he whimpered, his façade of bravery crumbling.

She grinned wickedly at him. "Oh, not much. He just prefers… it… to be a little… rougher," she declared excitedly.

"What do you mean?" His eyes flickered to the man, who was busy setting out a dozen or more pitch candles. "How could he possibly be rougher than…"

She laughed, a gleeful sound. "I bet you wish you'd have followed Voldemort with all your heart, now," she snickered, and Draco's heart fluttered in his chest, the bats in his stomach making quite a ruckus.

The man had completed his task of setting out the candles and was halfway through lighting them.

"Why the candles?" Draco questioned, trying to take his mind off of what Drowry was implying.

"He provides his own supplies," she responded slyly.

Draco tensed. "You don't mean…"

"Haiman here likes candles, love. He likes fire. He likes pain. You put them all together."

"No, you can't do that, that's… torture… you weren't…given clearance…"

"Like anybody gives a damn what I was given clearance for, Draco, not like they'll ever believe you, you're just another supporter of You-Know-Who."

"But…"

There was a crisp knock on the door, and Drowry smiled as she turned to admit two more men. They scanned the room, their eyes falling on the cowering Draco, and immediately began to stalk toward him.

He curled more tightly into the corner, a soft whimper erupting in the back of his throat.

The two men seized his arms none too gently and began to drag him across the room toward the bed. Two more men, these two bald giants, entered with chains, which they promptly rigged to the bed, and Draco was wrested onto the mattress on his back. He tugged against the men's arms, but in his nearly starved state was unable to do more than give the men a little jostle now and then.

"Drowry, you hell-bitch, don't do this, damn it, don't do this to me! It wasn't my fault, they jumped me, Drowry! I was on my way! Please!" he begged, fighting against the men like a wild beast, though to no avail. The men clasped the chains to his wrists and stepped away, one of them with a grin twisting his lips as he watched Draco jerk against his binds.

"Stop it, let me go, you can't do this!"

"Yes, Draco, I can. You have no rights here, I own you. And now, for the night, Haiman does."

Draco snarled at her, tears beginning to course down his cheeks as his heart pumped ever faster. Drowry turned on her heel and glided from the room, slamming it closed behind her. The four men and Haiman were left in the room, two of the nameless men stalking to guard the door and two more flanking the bed.

"Why all the security, Haiman, who are you to be so paranoid?"

He turned from his candles and smirked. "I'm not paranoid. These boys are part of the show."

Draco's white skin, if possible, seemed to become paler. "You have got to be kidding."

Haiman flicked a pocketknife open, reaching down and cutting down the front of Draco's shabby shirt. He slit the arms and tugged the scrap of material off of Draco's slender form. Plucking his bag off the floor and reaching inside, he produced two whips and a pair of matching lighters. He tossed the whips to the door guards and the lighters to the pair flanking him.

Draco redoubled his efforts to escape the chains, but it was no use. He was simply too weak, and the chains too strong.

Haiman tugged off his heavy trench coat and stationed himself at the foot of the bed, grinning manically. "Now, gentlemen, let's begin."

The two whips were the first thing Draco felt, their sharp and overwhelming pain biting into the tender flesh of his belly. They only struck twice apiece, but it was enough. Draco screamed out loud, flinging his head back, writhing against the chains.

Haiman pressed his hands against Draco's chest to still his movements, and one of the two nearest guards handed him one of the candles.

Haiman tipped the candle over, and a wash of blazing wax swept over Draco's stomach, settling into the welts produced by the whips. Draco's breath rushed out of him and he couldn't find the ability to even scream.

"The wax is bewitched," Haiman murmured gleefully in Draco's ear. "So that it burns more quickly and hotter. It will stay hot, too, until I scrape it off of you."

Draco found his breath enough to whimper, but could do no more. He bucked against Haiman's restraining hands, but only succeeded in twisting his wounds more, which brought a scream to his lips.

Haiman snarled. "Shut him up, will you?" he snapped, and the right-hand guard dug into the bag of pain, bringing out a gag and duct tape. He shoved the ball of the gag into Draco's mouth, clasping the belt-like strap behind Draco's head- no easy task, what with the way Draco attempted to bite the man's hand off- and pressing duct tape atop it for good measure. Draco's screams were muffled, satisfying Haiman.

He snatched one of the lighters from the guard and flicked the wheel, holding it in front of Draco's eyes. "Have you ever felt one of these, Draco?" he questioned coldly. "Do you know what fire feels like when it's loosed on a human's flesh? Have you ever smelled burnt flesh?"

Draco wasn't listening, his own screams drowning out the sound of his tormentor's voice to some degree.

Haiman leaned close to Draco and pressed his lips to Draco's ear. "It smells wonderful," he groaned, and lowered the lighter to Draco's nipple.

Draco gnashed his teeth but only succeeded in shredding his own lips while he bucked against Haiman.

"Oh, Draco, don't lose it now, love, there's so much more to go! This isn't even the main course! You just wait. You'll see."

Padma watched in horror through a crack in the door as the five men tormented her schoolmate, too terrified to move, knowing that even if she did screw up her courage enough to take on the five burly men, both Draco and she would get killed in the process. And while, knowing this, she still may have been willing to storm the room, disregarding her own safety for that of another human being, she was frozen in terror so sharp she could scarcely breathe.

Haiman stood from the bed, shrugging out of his shirt and discarding his pants. He stepped out of his boxers and slid onto the bed with Draco, tugging his victim's sweatpants off with ease, pleased with the development when Draco possessed no underwear. He grabbed at Draco's flailing legs, capturing them with ease, and jerked himself forward, holding one of Draco's legs on either side of him. Still, Draco bucked and kicked, his fear heightening his strength, so that Haiman lost his patience and gestured to the others. The bed guards drew more chains from the bag, which the other two promptly clasped around Draco's ankles.

The chains bit into his ankles as he struggled against Haiman, but the moment he felt Haiman pressing into him, he gasped and froze. Never before had he felt such size being pressed into his already abused ass. His hesitation was just long enough for Haiman to slam fully into him, and Draco screamed; even through the gag, the sound was chilling. Draco felt tears burn his eyes and he dissolved into whimpers as Haiman established a violent rhythm, gaining speed and force with each enraged thrust, his breath becoming ragged and harsh.

Draco's strength left him as Haiman ravaged him, until he could do nothing more than clutch at the chains in agony, dissolving into miserable tears and the occasional whimper.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Draco, Haiman thrust himself ever more deeply inside of Draco, until Draco once again writhed and he felt as though he should feel the tip of Haiman's member against the back of his tongue, and exploded his seed into his victim. Haiman screamed aloud, collapsing atop Draco and panting.

Draco cried shamelessly as Haiman straightened enough to draw that endless member out of him. To Draco's horror, in the process, Haiman found himself again. Draco felt Haiman harden inside of him, growing, growing impossibly wide and deep, growing hot and hard.

Haiman grinned down at Draco. "I'll bet you weren't expecting that," he growled, his voice raspy and heavy. "Bring in the girl," he commanded, and Draco froze in abject terror, forgetting his own plight, as the two door guards jerked Padma from her hiding place. She seemed just as shocked as Draco himself, for she put up no objection as they slapped duct tape over her lips and around her wrists.

Draco shook his head repeatedly, his tears redoubled.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I'd like you to employ every ounce of control you possess in order to obey us, or else we will damage your little friend beyond repair. My associates and I like to share, if you get my meaning. I require you to suck off my friend here, Draco dear, while I fuck your sweet little ass. Can you do that? Can you be a good little bitch, or should we begin with your little friend?"

Padma's fear made her heart hammer. She knew what Draco would do. He was a Malfoy, a proud, noble man. He would never lower himself to participating in his own rape, not even for her sake. Especially for her sake, she realized numbly. He had to hate her, what with the way she had treated him in school. She had hated him. They had all hated him. They'd scorned him for who his father was, and not one of them ever gave him a chance to prove himself. They'd forced him into a mold that he hadn't bothered to fight against, and as a result forced him into being the man he was today.

The kind of man who would surrender a woman to suffer in his place. The kind of man who would not mind in the least if he had to watch a woman raped.

The kind of man, she realized slowly, who was nodding his head in agreement? She watched, frozen in shock, as the guards re-chained him on his stomach and he struggled onto his hands and knees. She watched as they removed the gag from him. She watched as he took the sick son of a bitch into his mouth. Then tears assailed her, and the scene was lost. She dissolved into tears of mixed emotions. He had saved her by abandoning his pride and himself. He had given himself so that she could be safe. As she heard the sound of the whips cracking, smelled the stench of his flesh burning, heard the agony of his screams, she was smothered by guilt and gratitude. He had spared her, and she was grateful for that. Yet she knew how much it had taken for him to spare her, and the weight of his sacrifice was quickly dragging her down.

* * *

The informant-turned-prisoner was released after only a few days. Though Harry was highly suspicious that the blond bastard was hiding something, he knew not what. Harry was forced to sign the release and send him on his way, with only one ministry official discreetly following behind him to ensure he didn't perform any more questionable acts. Max had insisted upon his own innocence, and Harry didn't have the proof to pin him with anything. Being a scared tattle tale wasn't exactly a federal matter. 

Max had described the location of the place he said the women were being kept in detail, blabbering on for quite some time, unable to give an exact location and terrified that this would piss the Ministry off even more. Harry was disgusted, for a reason he could not begin to explain, with the little man.


	6. enough to damage the soul of the broken

_**A/N: Reviews? Please?**_

Padma had begun to scream, terror for Draco's life driving her to jerk against the men holding her captive, concern for her own safety long since abandoned her. She cried and screamed for him, screamed for him when he couldn't, cried to match his own bitter tears. She drove herself mad tearing at the men holding her, not caring when they hit her in an attempt to gain her submission. She screamed through the tape on her mouth and scratched at the tape around her wrists. The monsters had taken turns with Draco, each time ripping him more and more, until she realized that they were using magic to enlarge themselves. The knowledge nearly drove her mad. The pain he must be in…

When it finally seemed as though the gang was finished, Draco lay sobbing and whining, low in his throat, his throat and jaw too raw and torn to scream. He couldn't find a way to ease the pain, couldn't find a way to lay that would lessen the pain any, so he lay utterly still, the pain in his ass and torso too great to allow him much mobility, the pain in his mouth and throat too great to allow him speech.

Haiman stalked to the bed, blissfully clothed, and bent over Draco's face as the others removed the chains from Draco. "We'll see you again in exactly one week, love. You might want to be ready. Drowry will have you all trussed up and ready for us, then, so don't bother trying to beg out of it. I've already paid her, and I highly suspect the woman doesn't possess a heart."

Draco whimpered, unable to do more, as Haiman straightened and slapped his face harshly.

"One to remember me by," he smirked, and strode from the room, three of the others at his heels.

The one named Derek lingered for a moment longer, watching until the others left, then climbed beside Draco on the bed. He shoved Draco onto his back, eliciting a sharp moan from Draco, then climbed atop his prey, slamming his full weight onto the hapless youth.

Fresh tears coursed down Draco's cheeks, dripping into his ears and sliding down his neck. The giant leaned close to him, allowing his cheek to slide along Draco's.

"Next week, Malfoy, I'll fuck you harder. I'll fuck you so hard you can't move, all on my own. This time next week we'll all be here again, and I'll be here for you, baby, make no mistake about it. I'll be here, and I'll fuck you and fuck you and fuck you… I won't ever stop, until they drag me off of you, and then I'll get back on you and I'll fuck you again. We'll take turns next week, Draco, we'll take turns and when one of us gets tired someone will take over for him, but we won't stop after one measly round, we'll all keep the cycle going until Drowry has someone else there to take you, and even then we'll probably shove her out. We'll stay in here until we can't stand, then we'll go get some rest and some food, and we'll come back the next day. You're our new favorite toy, love.

"But guess what? I like sharing just fine, I like feeling someone slamming into your mouth while I fuck your tight little ass, but you know what I like even more? I like being able to keep you to myself, to do whatever I want without Haiman butting in. I want to whip you until your back is a bloody mass and then I want to lick it off. I want to shove myself down your throat so hard I come out your ass, and I want to delve so deep into your ass that you can feel me in your skull. I want to ride you so hard you bruise all over, ride you so hard you can't sit down for a year. I want to beat you until your own mother wouldn't recognize you, I want to fuck you over in every way. I want to cut a hole in your soft little belly and fuck you there, over and over and over again. I want to watch you struggle for breath on my cock, I want to rip your jaw off trying to get inside of your mouth. I want to watch you die while I'm shoved down your throat, and I want to watch my brother fuck your sweet little ass while I do it. I want to drive my cock up into the roof of your mouth until I can see my head popping out your skull. I want to cut you open and watch you bleed to death, while I'm fucking you harder than you've ever imagined. I want to fuck you against a wall, I want to fuck you in a coffin. I want to see your blood on my sheets, I want to be the one who puts it there. I want to breathe in your death and I want to kill you slowly and as painfully as possible.

"But Haiman won't let me, Draco."

Draco's wide eyes had grown impossibly wide and terror had seized his heartstrings and refused to let him go. He knew that the man atop him was truly insane, that, given half a chance, the giant would do everything he promised. He would find a new way to torment Draco every minute, and he would not be shy in doing whatever he thought would be fun for him and excruciating for Draco.

Draco knew not to be comforted in the least by the whine that Haiman wouldn't let the beast do what he wanted, and was proven right in the next instant.

"So I'll have to wait, because it would be too obvious this time, but one week, the day after we stroll out of here, I'll be back, I'll be back to get you. I'll steal you away, Draco, and you'll never see your little girlfriend or anyone else, ever again. You'll be praying to see Drowry's face by the time you die."

Draco was shaking harder than ever before as the man slid from the bed, making sure to jostle Draco as much as he could, for he sensed every word the man said to be true. He knew that the man would make his existence seem a curse, his life out to be a burden. He knew he would pray for death days before he was granted it, and he also knew that by the end of the time, he would be praying to anything that would listen, not just God.

The beast lumbered from the room, slamming the door, not bothering with the lock.

"Draco!" Padma screamed, the moment the door closed. She scrambled to her feet, slightly off balance, and fell to her knees beside the bed.

"Draco, talk to me, please, are you alright? Draco, open your eyes. Draco!"

Her voice, however, was unable to pierce the fog of dread and anguish permeating his mind. He rolled onto his side, clutching his wounded belly, and let the tears flow. He heard nothing and saw nothing, the smell of his own blood and violent sex filling his nostrils and the taste of the giant's dick on his tongue, endless wells of pain stabbing through his ass, torso, jaw, and throat. He rocked back and forth on the accursed bed, seemingly unable to pull himself together, having been so thoroughly and repeatedly torn in half.

Padma stood and raced from the room, not caring that she passed her twin sister, Parvati, on the way out of the room, not caring about the questioning looks she was gaining as she sped through the hallways.

She came to a halt outside Drowry's room, pressing her ear to the door and listening hard.

Drowry wasn't inside.

She sighed with relief and pushed her way through the door which was never locked, crossing the room without hesitation to the opposite wall. She ran her fingertips across the seemingly bare wall, finding a tiny catch and flicking it. A small segment of the wall popped open, and Padma groped in the dark until she found her own wand.

Drowry didn't know that all of the girls knew how to open the compartment, nor did she know that whenever the girls desired, they removed their wand from the stash and used it, replacing it within an hour, at most. They feared how thorough Drowry was, and wagered that Drowry counted and tallied each of the wands often, to be sure they were all still there.

Padma found her wand and then froze, reaching back inside to remove her sister's as well.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice erupted from behind her, and she whirled in terror.

* * *

"We have the address," Ron stated solemnly, waiting tensely for Harry's reaction.

Harry spun to face him. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get my guards back."

His old team, working off the clock in order to help him, was convened within moments, and he addressed them solemnly. "It's time we were a whole team again, right, men?" he asked the gathered wizards.

He had no doubt that they would conquer any enemy they came upon as he glimpsed the fury and determination in the eyes of each of the men as they hollered their approval.

"Let's go get our ladies back, shall we?"


	7. When the end finally arrives

_**A/N: Thank you:-D I live for reviews, so please, keep me alive! Review!**_

"Parvati! You scared me to death!" Padma trilled, shaking from fright and relief, and the rapid transition, rise and fall, of adrenaline coursing though her veins.

"Drowry is just around the corner, Padma!" Parvati chided her sister. "Hurry up!"

Padma made a quick decision, deciding that she didn't have time to explain to, nor convince, her sister, and shoved the spare wand back into the compartment, slamming it shut. "Emergency healing," she tossed to her sister, striding rapidly from the room.

She raced back to the room where she'd left Draco, slamming the door shut, blocking out the rest of the house, and their curious stares. She knelt beside Draco's bed, trembling in fear of what she would find, but was relieved to find him still alive, at least physically. He had vomited, and was still heaving air out onto the mattress in front of him, and she winced in pity.

She began to murmur a stream of spells under her breath, her voice songlike and soft, and watched as the burns and welts faded and his vomiting halted. She soon had him nearly back to health, cleaning the mess of blood and spilled semen and vomit away with a few choice spells; he still refused to acknowledge her presence.

Over the next few days, during which she continually hoped that he would come out of his trance, he seemed to decline steadily, growing thinner all the while, while he steadfastly refused to eat or acknowledge the existence of any living being.

* * *

Harry strode up the seemingly countless steps of the prison, his lips set in a firm line, the rest of his men fanning out to his sides, all cloaked in shadows of invisibility. He walked, a lone figure among the tide of destruction his men could and would wreak, the perfect figure of darkness and depth. His raven hair was covered in a deep jet hood which protruded to cover the entirety of his face, and continued on down his body in jet robes. With each step he took the robes billowed and abused the chill night air, whipping it and beating it, yet all the while remaining surprisingly quiet, as though well aware of the importance of the mission he was embarking on. He stalked up the steps like a lion descending on its prey, his lips quirking into a cruel grin when a woman appeared at the doorway as if summoned.

"Welcome!" She fairly purred, her wrinkled face contorting to what he was sure she thought was a sexy smirk but was really little more than a revolting grimace. "Welcome to the House of Serenity, where we…"

"Shut up, wench," he snarled in response, far too impatient to listen to her jingles or rhymes. "You know what I'm here for, now deliver."

She stuttered to a halt at his rude interruption, but kept her poise surprisingly well. "Yes, yes, of course, sir, now what would you like a blonde, a…"

"Are you Drowry?" he interrupted yet again, and she stuttered to a halt once more.

"Why, yes, yes I am, how may I be of assistance?"

"Is your House well-guarded, madam? I won't trust myself to just anyone, you know."

"Well, yes, for a small fee, we can have a guard posted to your room, he can be summoned immediately by floo…"

"But you don't have any guards on site?"

She smiled indulgently. "No, no, sir, I'm afraid we don't, they cost far too…"

Harry threw off the hood and advanced on her, wand raised, fairly growling. "Oh, it really is good that you're as cheap as Maxamno assured me you were. Now let us into the building, Drowry, or I'll kill you where you stand."

"You must be delusional, Harry Potter, there is no way I'll…" she broke off as others began to appear, sliding out of their spells and shadows, glaring and advancing menacingly. "On second thought," Drowry whimpered, reeling, "it wouldn't hurt to let you have a look around."

"Good girl," Harry purred, and followed her, wand still pointed directly at her heart, into the building.

"Expeliarmus!" he snapped, almost lazily, as she attempted to brandish her wand at him, and she squealed as her sole defense flew into a particularly burly-looking man's hand. "Now, now, Drowry, don't think that I would let you get away with that, now, old girl."

She whined and stomped her foot, but was spurred into movement by the continued presence of Harry's wand, which pointed unwaveringly at her heart.

"Drowry, the guy in room six…" the woman who'd exited room six froze in her tracks as she laid eyes on Drowry and her predator.

"Lavender! Lavender, darling, could you help me, here? These men seem to harbor some…"

"Harry!" Lavender breathed, her voice soft and disbelieving.

Harry offered her a gentle smile. "Lavender Brown."

"We've… we've waited so long… we thought… we thought you must have died!"

Harry winced and shook his head. "No, not died, just lost direction. I'm so sorry…"

But he wasn't given a chance to finish his thought, as his arms were suddenly full of a very happy Lavender Brown, so suddenly, in fact, that it knocked the breathe clear out of him. He coughed and wrapped his arms around her in return, and chuckled when she squealed in glee. "Oh, my word, they'll be so happy to hear you're alive!" she screeched, hopping on the spot.

"The feeling is mutual, believe me, Lavender. I thought that all of you had died…"

"No, we're all here. Well, all of the females. And I've heard a rumor that one of the males is here somewhere but I've never seen him. I don't know. But… oh! Right!"

She released him from the crushing hug she'd inflicted on him, only to let out the loudest, shrillest screech he'd ever heard. He winced and shook his head, but she seemed to know what she was doing, for all down the hallway doors began to open, and, further down, the sound was echoed. Soon the house had erupted into screeches and the sound of doors opening, and Harry realized that the girls had made a code to tell when help had arrived. Lavender vanished into the door opposite room six, and emerged with upwards of twenty wands, one of which she clasped in her right hand, the others which she levitated down the hall. Wands were snatched out of the air and put to good use, stupefying any males that may have attempted to thwart their long-awaited escape. Drowry was making a soft disbelieving noise in the back of her throat, shocked that the girls knew of her compartment, and shocked at their organization.

Harry wondered briefly why they'd never put the plan into motion without him. They were ridiculously well-organized, and they had the manpower to overthrow Drowry.

"Every time we thought we could try this," Lavender explained. "Drowry was close enough to summon her guards. We actually got as far the end of the stairs before they caught us, once, but since then, we haven't tried again. But now that you're here, we can get out of here!"

Harry smiled as the various familiar faces shook off the hands and oppression of the men of the house, striding confidently into the hallway in open and gleeful rebellion.

"Well, this is a lot easier that I expected," Harry chuckled, but he spoke too soon.

Drowry had somehow managed to snatch one of the levitating wands out of the air, and soon the house was flooded with her guards. The women launched into action, brandishing their wands like whips and swords, while the men bustled in further to assist. Harry slipped to the furthest reaches of the house, battling his way to the end of the hallway, impeding as many guards as he could along the way. He'd seen one girl who had been less enthusiastic about the rebellion, and was determined to find out why.

As he neared her, she shrank against the wall, terror in her every feature, as one of the guards closed in on her. Harry shot a curse at him, and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

He recognized the young girl, someone that had just entered her first year at Hogwarts when he was entering his seventh, but he couldn't place a name to her. She shuddered as he neared her, and he halted several feet from her. "My name is Harry Potter," he told her, his voice calm and reassuring. "I'm here to help you. I don't want you to get hurt, so if you follow me..?"

From out of the din of spells whirling through the air and screams of triumph from the women of his guard, he heard a decidedly male scream, and it was clearly a man in agony, but it was coming from the wrong direction. The fight was going on to his right, toward the front of the house, yet the scream had come from deeper in the house, to his left. A quick glance assured him that his side was winning the duel, and so he felt safe to investigate the scream.

"Dean!" he bellowed, and instantly his old schoolmate appeared at his side. "Watch her, take her outside and to the nearest safehouse. I'm putting you in control here, don't let me down, alright? Get these people out of here, I don't want that old bat summoning more of these bloody idiots."

"Yes, sir. Someone's taken the wand away, I doubt she'll be able to summon much of anything for a while," he smirked.

Harry tossed him a grin and turned back to the young girl before him. "This is my friend Dean. He's a good man. He'll take good care of you, alright? He won't let you get hurt. Go with him. He'll keep you safe."

She nodded, her eyes wide, and when Harry turned toward the source of the mysterious scream, Dean snatched at his wrist. "Where you going?"

"I heard something in the back," he replied coolly. "I'm going to go check it out."

"You need some backup?"

"Nah, I'll be alright, it may just be a mouse," Harry teased, and Dean nodded and turned his full attention to the young girl, flashing her a comforting smile.

"What's your name, hun?" he asked, and Harry wandered off before he could hear the answer.

He turned a few corners and traversed a pair of hallways before he came upon a most peculiar sight: two last unclaimed wands were levitating outside one of the doors, silently requesting entrance. He snatched them out of the air, raising a raven brow. One he recognized, but the other he didn't. Though he hardly knew any outside of his own personal guard, the wand did have a vaguely familiar appearance.

He stashed the wands in his pocket and clasped the knob is his left hand, preparing himself for the worst, whatever he could imagine.

He pictured clearly in his mind the spell to unlock doors, Alohamora, and swept the door open in a dramatically rushed display. He took in the sight that greeted him, and knew that he'd been wrong. He never could have imagined what he found, not in his worst nightmares.


	8. and the broken is unmasked

**_A/N: Thank you all! Please review lots, even if it's just to say "I read the chapter." I heart reviews and love to hear anything at all! Please, please, please know that I want to know if something is confusing or awkward or anything, I really hope to improve my writing by getting your feedback and really appreciate ANYTHING you have to say. If something isn't going how you want it to, let me know! Even if I can't change it in the story, it will help me in the future. Thank you all! _**

**_Now, the next chapter... I hope you enjoy! _**

Agony. Nothing short of agony would describe the state he was in. Even agony seemed too soft a word for the pain. Anguish. Hell. Torture. All of the above. Combined. Multiplied by ten.

The sound of colliding flesh was like a bomb in his mind, yet that was nothing to the feeling of the behemoth brothers shoving into him. The first week, they had held back. The following weeks they weren't so keen on reserve. Draco had thought that Haiman had been insatiable, riding him longer and harder than ever, but then the behemoth brothers had had their say. They'd been at it for what seemed like hours, and were still going strong.

His throat had long since been reduced to a bloody mass, and he was beginning to suspect that he would never stop hurting. He forgot what it was like to feel pleasant, to not feel constant and unending agony. Lancing through his ass and his throat and his back and belly, where the whips continually struck him, not shy in the least this week. They whipped him until he screamed, and then whipped him some more, and then fucked him until he didn't know what peace was, and would have given anything for a dementor to make him feel anything other than the agony. The cold was much better. Never feeling cheerful again he could handle. There was little in his life he could feel cheerful about anyway. What he had begun to fear, and with good reason, was never feeling 'neutrality' again. Never not feeling pain again. Never being able to find a comfortable position to sleep in, or at least one that didn't send pain lancing though his every nerve ending. That terrified him to no end.

They'd had Padma delivered to watch the show each time. Draco knew that she was there as leverage, and knowing that, he never gave them any reason to lay a hand on her. She had done so much for him over the last few weeks, that even if he had decided that simply knowing that she was one of Potter's guards wasn't enough reason to keep her safe, her kindness to him was. She'd healed him at every chance she got, and brought him spare bits of food she filched from the kitchens. She'd taken him under her wing, though he had been utterly unresponsive, but to swallow any food she shoved down his gullet, so he wasn't about to let anything happen to her. He was fully aware of the risk, if nothing else.

"Come on, Malfoy, you can do better than that!" the behemoth growled, and Draco breathed deeply, drawing the man's cock harder into his mouth and sucking hard.

"Malfoy, you're not following my orders!" he snarled, and the whip lashed across Draco's back. His spine bowed and his captors used his weakness to deepen their thrusts and harden the impact upon his slender frame.

Padma had long since been reduced to a whimpering mass as the horrors of the last few weeks were multiplied on her new charge's frame, and Draco's heart ached for her, wishing, for her sake if not his own, that she had never become involved.

The whip crashed down on his spine once more, and his body once more involuntarily bowed under its power. He grimaced as the behemoth's seed splashed down his throat, working his throat around the obstruction to swallow, as he knew was expected of him.

"Good boy!" the man growled, stroking Draco's hair and clenching his fingers in the sweaty strands. "Now, let's see that one more time, how about it?"

A scream to Draco's right drew his eyes uncomfortably to Padma. The sight that met his eyes had him reeling against his captors, not caring what damage to his attackers or himself he was inflicting. He bucked violently, tearing his ass and throat more in the process, but managed to dislodge himself from between the two men. He screamed aloud, uncaring that his throat was practically useless and rapidly declining, screaming as he lunged at the men holding Padma down. Two held her down while Haiman ravaged her violently, drawing a scream of pain from her throat. One of the other guards, Claude, Draco remembered his name to be, was attempting to shove himself down her throat.

"No!" Draco found himself screaming, though his voice was not his own, it was raspy and weak. "You swore you would leave her alone if I did what you asked! You swore you'd let her go! You swore! Get off of her, God DAMN YOU, get OFF OF HER!"

The men still holding him were laughing at his vain attempts to break free. Even if, in his prime, he was strong enough to take one of them on, in his current starved and whipped state, he was much less formidable an opponent, especially against the matched brothers. He clawed and bucked, but to no avail. They threw him back against the bed, reclaiming their posts, and forced entry into his body.

This is the sight a horrified Harry Potter barged in on.

* * *

"Holy shit!" he breathed, his mind working to take in what the hell was going on. He was confused, unsure of who had been screaming, torn between rushing to the woman's aid and canvassing the room more thoroughly.

It wasn't until the man who had his back to Harry moved that Harry realized there must be another victim there, on the bed, hidden behind the bulk of the muscular man. But who?

Harry stood still a moment too long. One of the attackers on the bed - yes, Harry realized, there were two of them- brandished a whip and struck at the victim on the bed. Harry narrowly dodged the whip's backward lash, before it was coming down hard again on the back of the hapless man - for Harry had gathered that that was where the man was being held captive. On the whip's second slash, Harry snatched out at it, catching it as it stilled for its return journey, the tip deadly quick, the thicker part much slower. He wrapped it around his hand several times, and had yanked it out of its master's hand long before anyone noticed he was in the room.

The man who'd brandished the whip toppled off the bed, giving Harry a full view of a man's naked ass, bloody and coated in semen. The man threw himself backward, away from the second aggressor, and flattened himself on the bed as Harry brought the whip around, turning it against its masters viciously, with precision and ease. Harry caught the second man across the throat, and that one reeled backward, a strangled scream erupting from him. A second quick slash of the whip and the original possessor was sent to his knees, a thicker part of the whip having connected with his skull. The other three men, fully aware, by then, of Harry's presence, were standing from the woman's prone form.

"Padma. Padma, Padma, Padma," the man on the bed kept moaning, and Harry's eyes flew wide as he recognized the woman.

"Padma Patil!" he gasped, and the woman's eyes flew to his.

She gasped and scrambled to her feet, skirting the three men as they cracked their knuckles and whips, and rushing to Harry, latching onto his free left arm, trembling in terror. Noticing her undressed state, he tossed her one of the wands he'd snatched out of the air, and she blushed in humility before summoning something to cover herself with. Seamus barged into the room, eyes wild. "Dean said he heard… whoa!"

Harry guided Padma into his arms, motioning them to leave. "Get her out of here!" Harry ordered in a tone that left no room for argument, and Seamus took in Harry's voice and stance and knew they had gotten their leader back.

"Yes, sir," he responded without a trace of hesitation and with much relief, wrapping his arms around Padma and drawing her out of the room. She followed reluctantly, casting a wary eye at the still-prone man on the bed. Then, looking at Harry, she seemed to be encouraged, and followed her classmate from the room, leaving Harry to clean up the mess.

"Why, if it isn't a wee little midget," one of the men drawled, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"You would do well not to cause trouble," he snapped, and snaked the whip along the floor menacingly.

"Aha! The little midget is thinking he's big, is he?"

"You demons have done no serious crimes here, yet. Come peacefully and we'll see which of your smaller discrepancies can be excused."

"Ah, Haiman, I think the little man will be wanting us to bow down to him."

"Yes, it would seem so, wouldn't it, Derek?"

"But methinks I've got a better idea," the one called Derek continued. "How about, let's not?"

The whip came from seemingly nowhere, but somehow Harry managed to dodge it, catching only a slight snap on the back of his hand. Without thinking, he wrapped it around his hand and jerked, at the same time sending his own stolen whip to lash out at the man brandishing the mate of his whip, bringing up a nasty welt on the back of the man's hand and forcing the release of the whip. Switching grips on the second whip and stowing his wand in his robes, he turned the second whip, too, against its owner, and sought the flesh of the one called Derek with both whips. They caught him easily, comfortable in his experienced grasp, and brought up violent welts along his bare arms. He winced, but was otherwise unresponsive. Harry sent the whips after him for a second time, feigning with the left so that Derek was ready with a defense there, but slashing viciously with the right. Derek snarled, falling back, attempting to retreat from Harry's reach, but Harry pressed forward, lashing again and again with the whips, until Derek let out a scream and fell to his knees. Instantly Harry rounded on the other two, who had been edging around him in what they thought of as an inconspicuous manner. They swept backward, out of reach of the whips, but Harry lunged and snaked the whips out, sending them slithering around his foes' ankles, intentionally letting them latch on, swirling around and around their ankle, and jerking. Both let out a surprised shout and the thicker one fell. The one called Haiman snarled and caught his footing, and in the time it took for the other to stand again and Haiman to steady himself, Harry had gathered his wand from his pockets. He flicked it at the pair and thin chord-like ropes shot from the end, snapping smartly around all five of the men's wrists, ankles, and mouths. The two left standing toppled to the floor, their feet having been jerked together out from under them.

Harry laughed at the look of surprise and fury painted across Haiman's face. "Oh, come, now, you didn't think I'd play fair, did you?"

He backed to the door, holding Haiman's angry eyes, only looking away to peer down the hallway.

"Hey, can I get a little help back here?" he shouted, and several of his guards, captive and rescuer alike, rushed to his side. "These five decided they'd try to resist," he smirked, and his guards chuckled as they took in the appearance of the five in the room. By some silent understanding they all skirted the bed, leaving the trembling victim for Harry, who they had come to know well enough to know that he preferred to have a personal connection with any victims whenever possible. They admired him for it, knowing there was more to being a good leader than power.

They also all knew, though they were loathe to admit it, that they had no desire to personally deal with the sole male rape victim, not to mention the only one of Drowry's captives that was ever delivered to more than one 'customer' at a time.

Harry waited until the others had cleared out before even looking at the man, and just as he stared cautiously toward the prone and trembling man, the man started toward him.

Rolling off of the bed stiffly onto his hands and knees, the blond man crawled toward him. Harry froze, surprised, staring into a thick matt of lanky, sweaty blonde hair. The face behind that hair was utterly obscured by the hair, and Harry was left pondering which of his guards would be so bashful with his identity but not with his nudity.

The blonde crawled to him, his hair over his face the entire way, his head lowered even as he came upon Harry. It wasn't until his bowed head was nearly against Harry's legs that the blonde came off his hands, raising himself to his knees. He hesitated for a fraction of an instant before lifting his arms and sliding them slowly, carefully, around Harry's waist, as though waiting to be batted away. Harry allowed it, confused and at a loss as to who the kneeling man could be, until he saw the Dark Mark on his left arm.

Once the blonde was confident he was not going to be punished or pushed away for his actions, he tightened his grip considerably, burying his face in Harry's belly. It wasn't long before Harry felt the moisture of tears soaking his robes.

"You… saved… you saved… you saved her!" the blonde man choked out, his voice strained and raspy.

Harry's hand, which had unconsciously lowered to pat the trembling man, froze. This man was only concerned with Padma, not himself?

"I will do… anything… to repay you," the blond continued, oblivious to the shocked expression flitting over Harry's face. "I am yours, forever. I can't… I couldn't help her. I tried. I did everything they told me to, just like they said, but they lied. They told me they would leave her alone if I did what they said but they lied, they…"

The voice cut off abruptly. Harry's hand had finished its journey to the man's hair, and as Harry ran his hand along that blond warmth in an effort to comfort, the man shuddered violently. Harry moved his hand away quickly, but the damage was done.

The blond released Harry suddenly, flinging himself away a little way and gagging on the very air in the room, it seemed. Harry watched him fight against himself, trying not to vomit, but losing slowly. Harry reached out, murmuring softly, and caught the matted curtain of hair, parting it from the blonde's face in an attempt to help. "It's alright, go ahead, you'll feel better, let it go," he offered as he moved the hair, but the second the blond realized his intention, he gave a terrible jolt and threw himself away from Harry with a startled cry of "no!" He stumbled over his own feet as he tried to clamber to his feet and escape Harry's clutches, flinging himself clumsily toward the door just off the exit, which Harry soon realized was a bathroom. The sound of violent retching escaped the hastily closed door, and Harry winced.

Standing warily, and taking a moment to marvel at the fact that he was on his knees at all, having no memory of getting to be that way, he crossed to the bathroom and gave a tentative knock before opening the door. It opened easily, the flimsy lock not engaged, and Harry's green eyes swept the grubby room to find the blonde huddled with a moldy shower curtain clutched around him, apparently having finally remembered his nude state. He was still heaving dryly, but he had emptied his stomach.

Harry slowly approached, not wanting the man to feel cornered or otherwise accosted. "Can I help?" he asked softly, terrified that the fragile being would panic again.

The blond hair was tugged more securely in front of the man's face, but otherwise there was no response. He didn't protest when Harry's hands touched his throat, though Harry couldn't help but notice the slightest tightening of muscles. Emboldened by the lack of a violent response of any kind, Harry began to massage the soft pale flesh beneath his fingers. The blonde whimpered in pain, until Harry began murmuring a stream of spells beneath his breath -- spells of healing and spells of calming. The soft moan became one of pleasure as Harry massaged the spells into the blonde's sore throat, then moved carefully onto his shoulders, his attention going to the welts raised by the whips, still murmuring the spells, and once the welts had lowered and been reduced to hair-thin streaks of white scarring, Harry focused on the blonde's still-bleeding buttocks, not moving his hands from the man's shoulder's.

The blonde stiffened suddenly, nearly to the point of dislodging Harry's hands from his shoulders as he felt the spells' focus turn. He whimpered and shifted uncomfortably as Harry sent healing spells to his other mutilated orifice.

"Shh, it's alright, it'll end soon," Harry murmured, interrupting his litany of spells to offer reassurance. He was sure this was a rather unpleasant part of the healing process, the torn tissue and flesh moving and resealing itself as new. He continued the spells until his patient stopped whimpering and fidgeting, then straightened up and moved away from the man.

With a flick of his wand, he summoned a good bit of soap (the one in the sink looked like it had had better days) and a clean washcloth (Harry was sure the washcloth had totally forgotten what it was like to be clean) and lathered it in the grimy sink, flicking the dirt away with the tip of his wand. Eyeing the shower curtain as though it may bite him (and pondering the less pleasant things it could do to him without trying) he transfigured it into a warm, dry, mold- and mildew-free fluffy pink blanket. The blonde let out a gentle snort as he tugged the ends more tightly about him, his fingertips dancing across the puffy pink cloth in amusement, sliding the silky-soft material through his fingertips and more firmly over his shoulders.

"C'mere, let me help you clean up," Harry offered. He felt the blonde's eyes on him, calculating, through the thick matt of hair.

A pale slender hand extended from beneath the pink blanket, palm up. The blond hair shook side to side.

Harry sighed and passed the soap and washcloth over.

The blonde shifted to the side of the commode and rubbed his mouth clean with the cloth, and it soon became apparent to Harry that the man was slowly and deliberately trying to remove his lips. Harry watched as he rubbed his lips raw with patient strokes. When it seemed as though the punishment would never end, Harry leaned over, reaching, requesting. The other's movement froze. Harry tugged the washcloth from his slackened grasp.

"Let me help you," Harry requested, a note of pleading in his voice.

The blond man tugged the atrocious pink blanket tighter, shaking his shaggy hair more firmly into his face in the process of denying Harry's request.

Harry sighed and tossed the washcloth onto the counter, turning to face the cracked mirror above the grubby sink.

"Isn't this a little backward? After all, aren't you the one who, by all appearances, sided with my worst enemy to have me killed, Draco?"

A sharp tiny intake of air was all the confirmation he needed. He let the silence stretch, stretch, stretch, until he was sure it would have to break soon or…

"How did you know?"

Harry's lips quirked into a humorless smile. "You can't possibly think that after seven years of trying to find your weakness, of studying you, that I wouldn't recognize your voice, however broken? The way you move, however sullenly you do so?" He turned back to face Draco, crouching in front of him. "Besides, none of my missing guards were blond, none of them were male, and none of them bore the Dark Mark."

Draco whined in the back of his throat.

"The second one of my guards says they saw you here, the Ministry will…"

"No!" Draco screeched, abandoning his corner of dirty linoleum to launch himself at Harry. "Please, Harry, I tried, I tried so hard! Please, you have to believe me, I never wanted to follow that crackpot old fool, I never wanted to destroy this world. I was trying to get information for you, but every time I was ready to deliver it, you would have already found out from somewhere else! The Dark Lord never trusted me, Harry, he never let me get close enough to get any valuable information for your troops. Please, Harry, you _must_ believe I _tried_!"

"Draco, calm down! I'm not saying I'm going to turn you over to the Ministry! I was just trying to explain why I have to have your trust! If you're still skittish like this when I try to get you out of here, someone is bound to notice, and my guards won't take my word for it that I've got you under control. If you shy away from me, then they'll think you're trying to escape and may attack. I won't have you killed because you're afraid that I'll rape you!"

The words echoed hollowly through the room, and Draco stared in shock, mouth gaping.

Harry's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, his eyes bulging.

"I…" he finally croaked, his voice strained. "I did… I'm… I'm sorry, I… I don't know… I… had no right… I'm so sorry…"

Draco snapped his mouth closed, eyeing Harry warily, searching, it seemed, for some sign of deceit. Finding none, he made his lips move. "P…Potter," he began, but his voice cracked and he had to cough to clear his throat. "Potter, don't worry, I'd never imagine that you would… f… force yourself on me; and don't bother apologizing, I'm used to your tongue getting away from you. Remember, I was in Potions with you, when you would go off on Snape."

Harry let it slide with a half-smile, not only because of the memories Draco's words had raised and the knowledge of the present situation with his hated potions master, but because he knew that the blond was trying hard to ignore the effect Harry's words had on him. He shrugged sheepishly and leaned his hip against the counter, hoping to appear open and carefree to the other.

Draco had never been one to want to dwell on his problems.

Draco eyed him warily. "Wait, so… you… you mean you're… you're willing to give me a chance? But I haven't done anything yet, to prove myself to you."

Harry cocked his head. "Not a minute ago you were swearing to me that you would repay me for saving Padma's life… not your life, but Padma's, even though you obviously…" Abruptly he halted, knowing that Draco needed not be reminded that he had been abused much more violently than their classmate. "Well, Draco, that is proof enough for me. For now, at least."

Draco seemed reluctant to trust his word. He had been lied to -- with excruciating results -- so many times. He had long since learned that greedy women and sadistic, horny men had a tendency to lie with the ease of a rug.

Harry tilted his head in understanding. "I understand that it is difficult for you to trust me, but please believe that for now, you have my protection from the ministry."

"You say that as if you _aren't _the ministry."

Harry frowned. "Times have changed, Draco. Besides, I was never the Minister."

"No, but everyone knows you were the one who truly had all the power. Everyone above you on the ladder was simply a figurehead."

"In other words," Harry clarified. "You blame me for you being here?"

Draco let out a slow breath. "You're a pretty thick guy sometimes, you know that? That wasn't even what I was talking about, but of course I don't blame you, I blame Ron. He used you to betray us all."

"Ron? Hardly."

"Then who?" Draco questioned carefully, and Harry pondered why exactly they were discussing the subject at all, when Draco had so recently been violently brutalized. It instantly dawned on him that the fact that Draco had been so recently injured was exactly the reason. Draco, ever a proud and composed creature, was desperately repressing his recent victimization. Malfoy did not, under any circumstances, want to be viewed as the victim.

"Draco, you're going to have to face it eventually," Harry said instead, ignoring Draco's question.

Draco's face showed his unease. "I honestly don't know who could have perpetrated this, Harry. I swear I don't."

"I'm not talking about that," Harry corrected calmly, dreading Draco's reaction. "I'm talking about what those bastards did to you."

Draco cringed and withdrew as though burned. "Just leave it be, Harry," he begged softly. "I just… I just want to try to get through it as quickly as possible."

Harry slowly reached a hand out toward Draco, who nearly tripped in his haste to retreat.

"Draco," Harry whispered, trying to recapture Draco's terrified eyes with his own. "That is not something you can just get over," he stressed. "You can't even let me get within ten feet of you."

Draco once again hid his face behind his hair, unable to look into the eyes of such a pure, strong, powerful creature any longer.

"I thank Merlin you don't know what it's like for me right now," Draco murmured earnestly, and a tear, the first of many, slid down his cheek. "The fact that I have never been so humiliated in my life was not enough satisfaction for them. They had to push me further, beyond humanity, beyond comprehension. I couldn't breathe unless they permitted me to. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't breathe around it." It didn't take Harry long to understand what Draco was referring to, and the instant he did, fury welled within him, hot and painful, and he regretted allowing the guards to carry off the villainous bastards with ropes around only their limbs. There should have been ropes around their throats, as well, Harry fumed.

"They weren't satisfied with their own orgasm, they wanted my pain. They drank it in like water in hell and squeezed me down for more. Their sadistic minds weren't satisfied when the marks from the whips had shredded my flesh to a single bloody wound, they poured cursed wax across the wounds to burn down to my very core.

"They were all like that, Harry; in some way, they all wanted me to hurt as much as possible. Drowry told the Death Eaters that I was a traitor and the loyalists that I was a murderer. She weaved lies about me and spurred their hatred and sadistic tendencies. They wanted to destroy me utterly by the time I was released to them. Only Haiman and his goons succeeded."

Draco forced his eyes upward, but couldn't make them stray above the line of Harry's chin. Defeated, he dropped them again. "Please understand me when I say that I don't want to… I don't want to dwell on that."

Harry's heart broke every second the blond spoke, and he was fighting the urge to try once more to comfort the young man. His instincts screamed at him to try to reach out to Draco, but rational thought screamed that no matter what, physically or mentally, Draco was not ready to be touched.

"I understand that, Draco," Harry whispered instead, unable to speak in any higher volume past the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry for everything. I wish I could have been here. I wish I could have prevented this. I wish I would have been able to find out what happened sooner. For you, to prevent this from happening to you."

"It wasn't always like this for me," Draco corrected him. "It was the girls who needed your help. I've only been sold for… for… I don't know how long, but it has only been a month or two. The girls…"

Harry debated whether to tell Draco that the girls had always been protected from torture.

"I never knew how it was," Draco sobbed suddenly, his tortured eyes flying to meet Harry's shocked ones.. "And I was the one who delivered them to that fate! Me! I assigned them to those rooms, I assigned them to that hell!"

Draco's self-hatred on account of the fate of the girls made up Harry's mind for him.

"Draco, listen. The girls… the girls were always protected, by Drowry, for some reason, against any type of torture. The men who came here, they were forced to behave themselves. They couldn't even… they couldn't even get rough with the girls, or Drowry would have them expelled."

Draco's eyes were wide, with hope, it seemed, as he listened to Harry's words.

"You mean… the girls, they were safer? They weren't… the men didn't…"

"No, Draco, the girls were never tortured."

Draco sagged suddenly, his knees giving out from under him and spilling him sideways. Before Harry could reconsider, he'd lunged into action, jolting across the small room in order to catch the blond as he fell, narrowly tugging his temple out of the path of the fast approaching sink corner. Automatically, Harry pulled Draco into his grasp, lowering them both gently onto the floor, Draco supported in his lap. When rational thought had time to catch up to reflex, Harry berated himself for his stupidity. Draco had made it quite clear that he wanted nothing to do with him in the way of physical contact. Harry quickly altered his position in an attempt to correct his mistake, attempting to lower Draco onto the floor, but found that he couldn't, as Draco's pale hands were clutched tightly in his robes.

"Thank Merlin," Draco whispered, his throat thick with emotion. "I thought, after Aldanas, that all of the girls had to go through that too, and I hated myself for it! I wished I'd died so many times because of the guilt of having delivered those poor women up to those… beasts!"

Harry repositioned Draco more comfortably in his lap carefully, not wanting to frighten the blonde, and wrapped his strong arms around the blonde's shoulders, his head dropping to whisper into Draco's ear. "It's alright, Draco, you are not the cause of their imprisonment, you were in the same boat as they. Never let yourself think that you had anything to do with whatever the girls endured. You had to do what Drowry commanded of you to stay alive, Draco, and they understood that. They did what they had to, too. You are not to blame any more than they are."

When he received no response, Harry tugged away carefully to inspect the man in his arms.

But Draco, lulled by exhaustion, Harry's soft voice, and a feeling of safety and comfort he hadn't experienced in his entire life, had fallen fast asleep.

A smile twitched to life on Harry's lips as he observed the blonde. The pain of the last pair of months was evident in his drawn features, yet Draco had surrendered to his exhaustion clasped within Harry's embrace.

Slowly, so as to not jostle his charge, he readjusted his grip so he could lift the blond. Slipping his forearm beneath Draco's knees, he gathered his feet beneath himself and stood, sickened by how light the man in his arms was. Draco shifted ever so slightly, and Harry froze, halfway crouched, until Draco stilled once more. By the time he felt it was safe to move, his legs were burning from their awkward position.

He stepped carefully forward, his eyes on Draco's face in order to detect any signs of waking. He knew Draco desperately needed the sleep, and knew that the next twenty minutes would be much easier for all involved if Draco was not forced to endure the stares of all of Harry's loyalist, all of whom thought Draco was a Death Eater.

Dipping his head, he used his teeth to tug the pink blanket over a bit of Draco's face in order to forestall the moment when everyone recognized him and attempted to create chaos. He was glad, for once, that Draco's thick hair was able to hide his eyes quite effectively.

When he strode from the room, dozens of his guards were standing by, chatting softly, trying not to look as though they were standing by. They shuffled uncomfortably when their commander appeared, carrying the last victim in his arms. Several of them raised their wands to conjure a stretcher, but Harry shook his head and the incantations died on their lips. When someone opened his mouth to speak, Harry shook his head once more. "Shh," he whispered, and cast a silencing charm to ensure his orders were followed. Keeping his voice low, he spoke into the sudden silence, a smile on his lips to lessen the offence of being silenced. He needn't have bothered, though, as each of his guards was perfectly content to listen silently.

"Please just nod yes or no to my questions," he began. "Has everything been searched?"

Every guard there nodded.

"Were there many injuries?"

They shook their heads no.

"You were able to subdue them all?"

Nod.

"There were no casualties, correct?"

Nod.

"Have the girls been released to go to the hospital?"

Nod.

His smile twitched wider.

"Have they checked themselves in?"

They shook their heads, smiling, as the girls appeared from the rooms they had ducked into, having been found out.

"Ladies," he chided gently. "We have to check for any injuries or curses. I know you feel fine but I insist. Now go check yourself into the hospital and report to me tomorrow at seven if you can. You'll all be given some time off, obviously, but I want to talk to you myself before then. Any questions?" The women shook their heads and slowly made their way out of the house, following the cluster of guards assigned to showing them out. "Alright, you lot, I want you all to be as thorough as you know how to. Check this place again, search the rooms for both victims and perpetrators. Every 'guest' needs to be taken into custody so they can be identified and charged, if necessary. I want every couch upturned and every cabinet searched, but carefully and not too loudly, otherwise you may frighten some of the remaining victims, if there are any. We can't just assume that only our girls were here, keep a lookout for _anyone_. Report to me at the hospital when you're finished, I'll be there with the girls and him." He nodded toward the sleeping man. "Be safe, alright?"

The guards nodded, and Harry removed the silencing charm. They remained silent until Harry had left, mindful of the resting blonde, but erupted into questions the moment they felt Harry apparate away.

"Who was he?"

"Which of the guys disappeared?"

"I can't remember who he was!"

"I hadn't thought it'd been that long, for us to have forgotten someone!"

But suddenly one among the crowd piped up impatiently. Seamus raised his hands to silence the others. "Are you all thick!? Didn't you see his left arm! He was a death eater. It must have been…"

A hush fell over the crowd, and Seamus dropped his eyes, unwilling to state the name aloud.

"It must have been Malfoy," Neville snapped, his ire lashing out.

Dean shushed the uproar that bitter statement caused. "Listen, guys, obviously, Harry knew who he was, and was taking care of him. Just wait until we get the whole story from Harry. For all we know, Malfoy was spying for him. Now, I believe we have orders!"

The guards snapped to attention and immediately fulfilled their duties. 


	9. the rescuers become the oppressors

**_A/N: Sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoy. Please review._**

Harry lowered Draco gently upon the hospital bed, carefully sliding his arms from beneath the emaciated man, and reached to disentangle Draco's fingers from his collar. Yet the moment he attempted to remove Draco's grasp, Draco whimpered and clutched him ever tighter.

"You may just have to wait there, Master Potter, if that's not a problem," the nearby healer, whose name he remembered to be Holly, informed him. "It would seem he is intent on hanging onto you."

"But won't that scare him when he wakes up? The only reason he let me touch him in the first place was because he had a bit of a breakdown, I doubt he was conscious of what he was doing. It would probably…"

"It would be better for him," the healer interrupted smoothly, "if you just stayed with him."

As though to prove this point to Harry, Draco tugged Harry even closer, wrapping a slender arm around the back of Harry's neck. Harry chuckled. "Yes, ma'am," he agreed, and leaned against the bed to wait.

"Harry, you dunce, you should get into the bed."

Harry shot her a disbelieving look. "You do realize what he's here for, don't you?"

"Well, obviously he feels safe and comfortable with you, Potter, so you should comfort him! Now into the bed with you!" she sniped, and her tone of voice left no room for argument.

Harry reluctantly lifted the blonde once more, and crawled carefully beside him. He nestled Draco across his lap, allowing the blond to wrap his other arm around his neck. Harry was startled when, as Draco buried his face into the crook of Harry's neck, he felt tears spill across his flesh.

Harry made soft shushing noises, his heart breaking. "It's alright, Draco, you're alright. You're safe, Draco. I'll take care of you, Draco. You'll be safe now."

The healer, who had been ahead of Harry by a few years at Hogwarts, widened her eyes as soon as she heard his name. "Draco Malfoy?" she gasped, unable to stop herself.

Harry's furious eyes rounded on her. "Hush, woman," he snapped, and she felt a silencing charm snap around her. Startled, she was unable to say more. Her eyes roamed to the chart at the foot of the bed, which had been spelled to fill itself in automatically, and to her disbelief, there, printed plainly, was the patient's name. Malfoy, Draco, the chart read. She exited the room hurriedly.

As she left the room she felt the charm remove itself from her.

* * *

Draco came awake slowly, his mind a confused muddle. He took a breath, slowly, and was startled to find that his throat did not hurt with it. His ribs were no longer aching, nor was his back a fire of lashes. He kept himself utterly still, fearing a trick of some sort, and waited.

It was only when his mind cleared of sleep did he hear the breathing, close to his face. He jerked his head up and his eyes fell on the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Harry Potter, the hero of the wizarding world, was fast asleep, his head at an angle which simply couldn't have been comfortable. The memory of his rescue washed over him, and tears filled his eyes as he remembered the tenderness with which Harry had held him. He had awakened briefly in the hallway full of guards, heard the way Harry commanded his soldiers, heard the way Harry spoke softly in order to not awaken him. He had kept himself silent and still in order to avoid becoming the center of their attention, and had eventually fallen asleep once again.

And obviously he had kept a hold on the raven-haired commander in his slumber. His arms were clutched tightly around Harry's neck, and he felt Harry's arms, softly supporting Draco even as Harry slept. Draco smiled at that small consideration, and didn't even bother to question his inexplicable comfort in the arms of yet another man.

Draco lowered his head once again to Harry's neck, shifting his grip until the awkward angle of his arms was alleviated and until his bicep was comfortably supporting Harry's head. Yet that slight movement jolted Harry awake, and Draco berated himself for being so clumsy.

Harry pulled his head upright, wincing as he twisted the crick out of his neck. He jiggled his head side to side softly, the pain evident on his handsome features. His eyes slowly slid open and he stilled utterly when he caught sight of Draco's silver orbs bearing into him.

Harry tensed slightly, fearing Draco's reaction to his close proximity. When, after a few moments, Draco did nothing more than stare, Harry forced himself to relax. He shifted his grip on Draco to allow Draco more freedom, hoping that his grip had not betrayed the possessiveness he felt over the broken blond.

"Hi, Draco," Harry murmured thickly, and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about this, I…"

"It's okay," Draco interrupted. "I don't mind."

Harry let a smile touch his lips. "You had a pretty good grip on me, there."

Draco blushed, embarrassed. Then he realized that he still was clutching to Harry's neck, and jolted away. "Oh!" he gasped, and in his chagrin he didn't see the regret in Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I…"

"No, you misunderstood, Draco," Harry soothed. "I just meant… I was explaining why I was here."

"Oh," Draco repeated, and lowered his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Okay."

Unsure of how to treat the skittish blond, Harry considered his decisions. He didn't want Draco to get uncomfortable with his closeness but he didn't want Draco to feel abandoned if he moved, either. He made a slow show of gaining his bearings, carefully working at the crick in his neck and shoulders, hoping for some type of reaction from Draco to guide him.

The decision was removed from his hands when what appeared to be a squadron of Harry's troops bustled in.

Several of them leveled hostile glares at the blond, their prejudgment of the man clouding their logic. Draco shuddered violently and curled into himself, his legs drawing into his chest and his arms clutching at them fiercely. Memories of that fateful day which began all of his torment, when he had been attacked in the hallway, slammed into Draco, spurring memories of each of his tormenters thereafter. Within seconds, Harry watched as the halfway comfortable man was reduced to a shuddering replica of the man he'd been in the clutches of the whorehouse.

"You fools!" Harry rasped, horrified. "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

Draco flinched away from Harry's steely voice.

"Get the fuck out!" he ordered, his voice carved from marble. "Wait for me outside. Out!"

Those who had not allowed their past opinions of Draco show on their faces trooped out, confused. The others stood fast.

"Harry, perhaps you should reconsider your decision to trust…"

"Out. Now."

The fury in Harry's usually cool voice burned across their skin in near-physical waves, and they got out.

As the last one left, Harry eyed the blonde warily. "Draco, I'm sorry, I didn't know they…"

His arms were suddenly full of the shuddering blonde once more. Draco clung to him, shame and fear pulsing through his veins.

Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around the blonde's back. "I'm sorry," he murmured, and rubbed comforting circles into Draco's back. His fury at the guards was magnified as his fingertips brushed across the puckered areas across Draco's back where the whips had scarred him. He could feel them easily through the flimsy hospital gown. Those idiots knew what torture Draco had had to endure, and dared approach him with violence on their faces? Well, Harry decided, maybe they needed to be reminded that though he was friends with most if not all of them, he was also their superior, and he would not tolerate such shameful behavior. In the space of three seconds their accusing glares had thrown Draco off of the already shaky comfort he'd acquired through rest.

"You're alright, Draco, they're just dumb asses, don't let their stupidity get to you. They just thought you were still the little brat you used to be. But it's okay, they're wrong, and I'll let them know how retarded they are." Harry continued to ramble on about the stupidity of the guards and how thoroughly he was going to whip their asses.

"That Neville fella, I think he's gonna be the first on my list. Poor little bastard never could figure out how to behave."

Draco, whose shaking had slowly abated during Harry's rambling speech, huffed softly, and Harry let himself smile. "You do want me to kick their asses for you, don't you?" he continued, smiling now. "I think I could take 'em. The best of the wizarding world, my ass. Those bastards have some issues."

Draco smiled, then, and raised his head to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry met Draco's amused glance with concern. "You alright now?" he asked softly.

Draco nodded and shook himself. "I'm sorry about that," he murmured, and Harry negated that quickly, moving his hand from Draco's back to the side of his neck as Draco sat up again.

"Don't apologize for being afraid," Harry admonished gently. "Never apologize to me for something you can't help. Alright?"

Draco's lips twitched. "Alright."

Harry's eyes hardened once more as his eyes flicked to where one of his men was chattering with a healer. He let his eyes roam Draco quickly in order to assure himself that the blonde really was feeling better, at least for now, and began to stand.

"Where are you going!" Draco gasped, not yet willing to relinquish the attention Harry had graced him with. He felt somehow uplifted in Harry's presence. He didn't want to be abandoned to himself again.

Harry stilled at the frantic look in Draco's eyes, but knew that he had to leave sooner or later. "I'll be back, Draco, but for now I have to go shred a few of my men."

"No, Harry, don't. Don't really, you can't blame them."

"Watch me," Harry deadpanned, and his eyes flared dangerously.

Draco tried not to let the fury in Harry's eyes affect him. He knew that he wasn't the source of that rage, and it took him a few moments to realize and be strangely comforted by the fact that said fury was in his defense.

"Just… just wait a little while," Draco requested softly. Harry's fury melted and he smiled at Draco, relaxing back into the bed.

"Alright, Draco, I'll wait."

Draco gave him a hesitant smile and moved to rest his head on Harry's chest once more.

"You'd been asleep quite a while, there, Draco. How do you feel?"

Draco glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering how much time had passed, before he realized he had no clue what time Harry had rescued him.

"The raid was around ten o'clock," Harry explained for his benefit. Draco's brow furrowed as he glanced at the clock again. It was only twelve, now.

"Wednesday," Harry finished with a half-smile.

Draco's eyes widened as he realized what Harry meant. "What's today?" he asked.

Harry's smile widened. "Saturday."

Draco's jaw dropped.

"Oh!" he gasped. "I'm… oh!"

Harry smiled. "Don't sweat it. You were obviously exhausted, Draco."

"And… you were here, the whole time?" he asked softly.

Harry dipped his head once.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…"

"It's okay, Draco. I really don't mind. The guys would come in whenever they had a question, and I actually was able to move around a bit, so don't worry about it."

Harry didn't add that the only moving around he was able to do was to dash to the restroom, on which occasions he had to hurry back because for every moment Draco was alone he grew increasingly more agitated.

Draco lowered his eyes. "You can go see to your men," he whispered, and Harry's heart broke.

"It's alright, Draco. I swear. I could have left any time. Don't worry about it."

Draco's eyes were tortured as they met Harry's. "Please go see to your men," he reiterated.

Harry felt a stab of guilt and something else, which he couldn't bear to take the time to examine. Yet he knew what it was instantly, and hated himself for it. So it had begun; Draco no longer wanted him nearby, and it was his doing. Why did he have to open his big mouth? Mechanically he slid from the bed, his heart aching with the pain of rejection.

But as he strode toward the door, his stride tightening with each step he took because of his remembered fury -- anything to block out the pain Draco's rejection caused him -- Draco spoke again.

"You'll come back later?" Draco questioned, unable to mask the hope in his voice.

Harry slowed, a bit of hope blooming in his mind, and his eyes softened. "Of course I will, Draco," he assured with a small smile.

The door slid closed behind him and Harry forced himself to think only of his fury at his idiotic men.


	10. and the past oppressors return

**_A/N: Sorry for the delay. My computer is being mean to us all and wouldn't let me upload, I had to crash my friend's computer to upload, but I'll try to keep them coming!... Hope you enjoy. Thank you for your reviews, please continue to let me know how you feel about what's going on, please review as often as you are willing :D._**

Harry stormed into the room the startled healers had led his men into, the door slamming open and closed of its own accord. "_How dare you!_" he bellowed immediately, and the room fell deathly silent.

"How _dare _you come into that room with some kind of _holier-than-thou hatred pouring from your eyes!_ Do you have _any_ idea what he had to go through in that fucking house! Did you even bother to find out? Did you even stop to consider why he was there! You blind fucking fools, the women were there because they were loyalists! Don't you fucking think that maybe he was there for the _same reason_? And even if your tiny fucking brains couldn't grasp that simple fucking concept, then how about this! Unless it is Voldemort himself lying in a fucking hospital bed, I _NEVER_ want to see you glaring down the victim of such atrocities. EVER. I don't give a rat's ass what you presume Draco Malfoy did to you, he's a fucking victim in all of this, therefore he deserves our _protection_, not our hatred!"

"Harry!" a particularly foolish and bold man piped up. "We get it, the guy was ass-fucked. But, I mean, come on, gay guys get off on that type of shit all the time, and it's not like the women weren't in the same boat. You don't see any of _them_ blubbering like fucking bitches."

Suddenly, it seemed, there was a ten-foot radius around one Mike Bolden, and a clear path between Mike and Harry.

Harry's rage choked him for several moments, and the longer he stood there, too blinded by fury to react, the wider the space around the two grew.

"Do… you… have any idea… how foolish you are?" Harry bit out, his voice strangled by his attempts to control his temper. None of his men had ever seen him so completely furious, and even Mike was fast realizing his folly.

Ron was standing just to Harry's left, but knew better than to try to hold Harry back. Dean, on Harry's right, was equally frozen. So it was no surprise when, as Harry's temper finally snapped, there was no obstruction when he suddenly lunged across the room and clenched his fingers around Mike's throat. Even then, his voice failed him for several moments as Mike struggled like a fish on a hook.

"I will not tolerate such blatant stupidity and disrespect! He is a fucking human being, you stupid bastard! I don't care how the other victims are reacting, that does not mean you should drag the ones who are more affected through the mud! Not only that," he snarled, and tightened his punishing grip, "but ask any one of the women. What they went through was nothing compared to Draco's experience. The women were protected from torture, Mike. Draco wasn't." He forced himself to loosen his grasp when it seemed as though Mike was loosing consciousness. He forced his hands to move away from such a dangerous location, instead clutching the shirtfront of the new Smurf. But what he hadn't anticipated was the undeniable urge to slam Mike into a wall. So he did, and held him there. "Do you have any idea what happens when the most twisted men in our society are let off their leash, guilt-free and legally in the clear, handed a victim and allowed to live out their darkest fantasies? The ones who were Voldemort supporters were reminded he was a traitor to The Dark Lord. The ones who were loyalists were told that he was a murdering Death Eater. Do you know what can happen to the human body when something magically enlarged is shoved into it?" Harry wasn't sure how he knew for sure that many of the men had enlarged themselves in order to rip Draco apart more completely, but the knowledge was suddenly buried within his mind, and he was utterly positive. Then he remembered the pair of guards who had been atop the bed when he'd stormed in, and understood. "Imagine those twisted fucking people able to make themselves thicker, longer, harder, faster, and imagine them shoving themselves in _your_ ass. Imagine them deep-throating _you _with that," he challenged coldly. "Whips and chains and flames," Harry snarled, his face a twisted mask of fury. "Pain worst than _Crucio_, and you _dare_ call him a blubbering bitch?"

When it seemed as though Harry had spent much of his fury, Ron and Dean dared to step forward. They murmured Harry's name, each touching one of Harry's arms gently.

"Put him down, mate," Dean requested softly. "You're alright, put him down. Don't let yourself do this, mate. Let him go."

"Harry, he's not worth it. Harry, let him go," Ron begged.

"Harry," Seamus piped up cheerfully. "He's not breathing!"

Harry released the folds of the robe instantly, as though burned, when he realized that he had lifted Mike a foot off the ground and was strangling him with his robes. Harry seemed to sag suddenly, and Mike, now an interesting shade of purple, shuffled fearfully away.

"Anyone who has a problem with what I've said," Harry rasped out, his fury having been reduced to a slow simmer by the realization that he had nearly killed Mike, "and Mike Bolden, can get the fuck out of my command, and never show his face in the Ministry again. Mike, you are no longer fit to serve the Ministry of Magic as an Auror. You are hereby released from your position."

"You can't!" Mike gasped, shuddering. "You have no grounds!"

"Yes, Mike, he does," Ron snarled, hoping to shut the fool up before he got them all slaughtered. "Now get out with your life and be happy!"

"No, he doesn't!" Mike insisted. "Just because he's got his wand stuck up his ass…"

Harry was surprisingly calm as he responded. "You are a fully licensed and trained Auror under the command of the Ministry of Magic. A vital aspect of your duties is the fair and impartial execution of the law. Yet had you been the one to find young Draco Malfoy, you would not have been lawful. And even aside from supposition, your disrespect and ill treatment of a victim taken as a charge under the Ministry of Magic by way of search and rescue is grounds enough to have you fired and your wand snapped. Your job is to protect the innocent, Michael Bolden. You have abused the power granted you in solemn service to the Ministry. Now… get… out… of… my… face."

Seamus and a youth by the name of Rodney scrambled forward, not willing to allow Mike the chance to disobey. They dragged the griping and coughing man out of the room bodily, and returned once they'd kicked his ass -- literally -- into the elevator.

Harry was seated with his head in his hands by the time they returned. Nobody else had moved, so they assumed they hadn't missed much.

"How many of you assumed that Draco was still a Death Eater?" he asked tiredly, and raised his eyes. When nobody was forthcoming, he stiffened.

"Tell me the truth," he snapped, and several hands raised reluctantly.

"I saw more than that glaring at him," he pointed out, and a few more hands raised. Satisfied, he motioned for them to lower their hands. "Thank you for your honesty. Now, just imagine you were in Mike's place and you get the idea. I don't need to reiterate my message, do I?"

"No, sir!" every voice piped up, even the ones who hadn't raised their hands. Harry smirked.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper, but hopefully you see why I was so incensed. Not only was Draco a victim, which in itself should have softened your hatred, but he was under my protection. I carried him out of that house in my arms, and you didn't trust me to remember his history. I'm no fool, gentlemen. I knew what he had been, and knew what he'd become. Draco tried to assist our efforts, and though he was unable to prove himself to us during the war, he proved himself the moment you lot carried his captors out of the room. He crawled to me on his hands and knees… hands and knees! And swore his fealty to me for saving…" he paused to allow the men to envision that. "For saving Padma Patil from his captors."

The men in the room lowered their eyes in shame.

"He had been tortured continuously for two months, and he could only think of Miss Patil. He had obeyed every twisted order those creatures threw at him in order to keep Padma safe. Do you see why I believe his intentions?"

"Yes, sir, we're sorry, sir," many voices chimed, and Neville stepped forward, dropping to one knee before Harry.

"Har… Sir, we apologize for our disgraceful behavior. We allowed our childhood grudges to cloud our minds at the expense of a man who didn't deserve our ire. We have behaved dishonorably toward Draco Malfoy, and wish to be allowed to prove our trust in you, sir."

Harry patted Neville on the shoulder and smiled. "Alright, Neville, I get the idea, you don't have to bow."

Neville blushed and stood quickly.

"I'm truly sorry," Harry groaned when he realized how much he had terrified his men. "I don't believe I've ever lost my temper like that. Please, guys, relax. I'm alright now. We're all on the same page, we all understand one another."

"Sir, yes, sir," they all chorused, snapping Harry an overly dramatic salute. Harry threw his hands up in surrender and laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a terrible tyrant," he drawled, eliciting a chuckle of relief from the men.

* * *

Draco lay on the lump of coal the hospital laughingly dubbed a bed long after Harry had left, valiantly trying to control his irrational fears. Harry had promised to come back, Draco reminded himself repeatedly. He wouldn't go back on his word. He'll return, and you'll feel like a moron for having doubted him. In no time at all he'll come back to visit and you'll be fine. 

He replayed his mental pep talk through his mind a dozen times. He heard the noises of the hospital, soothing, normal sounds, and focused on what he could hear. Everything narrowed down to the soft beeping, whirring, and whooshing coming from the world around him.

Until suddenly a voice made up of pure flame jolted through the entire floor. Harry's fury lashed at the walls and Draco trembled at its intensity. He knew that Harry's voice wasn't actually carrying so far, but somehow his magic had reached out to seek out Harry, and had gained access to his voice.

"…_holier-than-thou hatred pouring from your eyes!_" Harry screeched, and Draco allowed his mind to listen in as Harry berated his men for their foolishness. The episode comforted Draco; somehow, knowing that Harry was prepared to face down all of his men to defend him, Draco could rest easy.

He was only halfway listening to Harry's emphatic chastisement, enjoying the rises and falls of Harry's velvet voice, when a hauntingly familiar voice interrupted.

"Harry," that voice snapped, and Draco's fear returned tenfold with that single word. "We get it, the guy was ass-fucked. But, I mean, come on…"

Draco was trembling long before the cruel words were finished, and hardly registered the depth of their meaning. His mind had spiraled into the past, and fear held him immobile and silent as the remainder of the brawl faded from his mind. No longer able to retain the connection to Harry through his paralyzing fear, the argument was utterly lost to him.

He lay, frozen, for the duration of the castigation, and only jolted back to reality when his door opened. Instantly elated, he sat up, expecting Harry's frustrated frown to turn into a hesitant smile as he caught sight of Draco.

But was met with the face of his agony.

The tall, slender gentleman stepped into the room with an air of one returning from a vacation. He let his cold gaze roam Draco's pale form and smiled slowly, as though he had all the time in the world to move each muscle into the proper position.

Draco struggled to find his voice, longing to yell out, longing to lash out, longing to breathe. His entire body had turned to stone in moments, and his terror overrode the sense of self Harry had cuddled back into him. He sucked in a ragged gasp, but then found he was unable to release it. His lungs burned, his mind reeled, his body shook.

"No," he was finally able to breathe, a short, jerky sound. The single syllable seemed to take the effort of toppling a bridge, and his body shook harder.

The newcomer slid his tongue between his lips, slowly and carefully moistening those thin lines. His smile was debonair, and his hands moved to straighten his robes with the grace of the wind itself. Draco helplessly watched each movement the dark man made, his eyes taking in the unusually deep color to the other's cheeks, noticing that his breathing was slightly ragged, noticing that his body was a tightly controlled coil of fury.

"Draco!" the dark man cooed, his voice silky yet thick. His falsely cheerful mouth twisted as he repeated the phrase he'd said to Draco countless times before, and with a sadistic twisting of meaning nearly two months ago. "How nice to see you again. I'll have the usual, I think."


	11. to haunt the mended

_**A/N: Making up for lost time...**_

* * *

Harry wasn't sure what made him so tense so suddenly. He was perfectly at ease with his men, once the trash by the name of Mike had been disposed of.

"I never did like him much," Ron griped, reading the set of Harry's face.

Harry's smile was forced. "None of us did, remember? How many times did one of us request he be removed from our team? Each and every one of us works together with the ease of a well-oiled machine…"

"…except Mike," thirty voices finished as one.

Harry tried to smile along with his men through the mounting feeling of unease growing within him. He hadn't experienced such a strong feeling of _wrongness_ in a long time, and was unsure of how to take it.

"Where is Mike, anyway?" Harry asked, his mind flipping and dipping in an effort to make sense of his feelings. He felt as though he should be seeking out the sense of Mike, but a strange name was attached to the feeling.

"We escorted him to the elevators," a voice informed him.

_Aldanas. _

_Who the hell is Aldanas?_

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Ron shrugged. "Dunno, mate, why do you ask?"

"Figure out," he commanded suddenly, and even through his unease he could hear the edge to his voice, and regretted it instantly. "I'm sorry. Please, run a search on that name. I'm…"

"Yes, sir," several men interrupted, their way of forgiving his behavior. In the days during which he had been fully their leader, they had become quite accustomed to following his spur-of-the-moment peculiarities, typically with surprisingly appropriate results. Two pairs of men left instantly to obey.

"And someone figure out where Mike went."

"Yes, sir." Four more of his men departed.

"Harry, mate? Is something wrong?"

Harry lowered his head, hoping to quell the seemingly irrational feeling. He had never been able to get a lock on his stupid intuitions, never been able to understand them. So why did it seem as though he should be in action already?

He pushed to his feet suddenly, and Ron followed suit, as well as the remaining men gathered. "All of you, find Mike, NOW!" Harry gasped suddenly, and his heart began to pound uncontrollably. He clutched at his chest and fell to one knee. Ron, who had been about to leave the room, spun around, torn between his orders and his desire to help his best mate, who was obviously in pain.

"GO! I'm fine!" Harry growled, and dropped his other leg. He knelt on the floor of the hospital, unable to breathe, unable to think. The feeling of desperation and fear overwhelmed him, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He gave a violent shudder, and it seemed as though something within him broke. He screamed, a pained, panicked sound, and felt his name echoing within his skull.

Suddenly everything stilled, and Harry was able to breathe again. He gasped in a breath of air and planted one foot on the ground, his hunched shoulders straightening and his bowed head flying up to stare out the door.

"Draco," he breathed, and was on his feet in an instant.

* * *

"M… Master Aldanas," Draco whimpered, and hated himself for his weakness, both in voice and mind. He dared not call the intruder by anything but the term of servitude he had been commanded to use while in that home. He dared not disobey the powerful man before him. 

"I know I'm a little early today," Aldanas smirked, and waved his elegant hand through the air as though it were a minor matter. "But circumstances are such that I must be on my way quickly. Fortunately for you."

Draco was finally able to gasp a tiny breath. He sucked in oxygen greedily, but realized he had yet to expel the previous breath. He forced his lungs to exhale, and started the process over.

"I'm sure you're a little surprised to see me," Aldanas murmured, and took a slow and easy step forward. "But your knight in shining armor gave me an idea that was simply too tempting to resist."

Another slow step brought him a few agonizing inches closer.

"Wh… what do you mean?" Draco couldn't help but ask.

Aldanas smiled indulgently and nodded. "Thank you for playing," he praised. "You're such a good bitch."

"What do you mean!" Draco insisted, and Aldanas laughed.

"Mister Potter himself informed me that many of your previous guests used magic in order enlarge themselves."

Draco shuddered, remembering the twins.

"Which led me to wonder, what would it be like to feel you tear even more than when I took your virgin ass for the first time? How much blood could I get to drip down your legs, down my cock? How much could I make you want to scream?

"Unfortunately, I can't allow you to scream. We are, after all, in a hospital. But I _can_ make you _want _to scream. I _can _make you _burn _to scream."

Aldanas shuddered in excitement even as Draco shuddered in fear and revulsion. He knew that Aldanas spoke the truth, that the temptation to rip Draco in half was making him tremble.

"No," Draco protested, but his voice was no more than a moan.

"Oh, Merlin, yes!" Aldanas grinned, and took several shaky breaths. Draco noticed a faraway look in his tormentor's eyes, and, deciding now was his best chance to act, lunged for the call button which had been moved to the side of his bed.

Aldanas tisked and shook his finger as he watched Draco press the button frantically. "You should know I already silenced that, Draco, dear."

"Is there something I can help you with, Draco?" one of the healers asked sweetly. Draco screamed directly into the intercom but to no avail. "Draco, hun, is there something the matter?"

Aldanas slipped a silencing charm around Draco then released the one he'd placed on the intercom. "Sorry, love, there's not a problem here, I stumbled and fell onto your little button thingy. We're okay in here. I'm terribly sorry for the confusion."

Aldanas could hear the smile in the healer's voice. "It's alright, sir, don't you worry. It's not a problem at all."

Aldanas smiled as he saw tears of pain and hopelessness leaking from Draco's eyes.

Aldanas had always favored physical might. Draco thrashed against him as he attempted to hop atop the blond, and Draco's slight frame, even starved and abused, sent waves of pain emanating from everywhere he struck. Draco felt fear and panic washing through him, but also knew that he would never again submit to the beasts he'd had to cater to in that place. Fury and defiance welled within Draco, and Aldanas never stood a chance. Aldanas was surprised by his inability to dominate the fiery blond beneath him. It had always been so easy before. Why couldn't it be so simple now?

The door burst open and a storm of raven flew in. Aldanas was hurled bodily from his position atop Draco, and he felt shards of glass slice through him before he felt the most jarring impact he had ever felt. Then there was nothing.

Harry didn't pause to feel chagrin for having accidentally -- or maybe not so accidentally, Harry considered, looking at the slashes across Draco's face where Mike had attempted to pry his jaw open -- thrown one of his ex-Aurors to his death out a window. He made his way instead to Draco's side, frantically examining his charge in order to determine how seriously he may have been injured.

Draco was terribly disoriented. He had been fighting for his life one moment, and then the next moment there was stillness. His mind refused to wrap around the situation, just as it refused to recognize the sound of the thick glass of the hospital window shattering.

The only conclusion he could draw when suddenly Harry was hovering over him was that he'd died and gone to heaven.


	12. When all is forgiven

* * *

He reached out fearlessly to clasp his arms around Harry, and was startled to find him trembling fiercely. Draco pulled away slightly, his mind still a jumbled mess. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, oblivious. Harry raised those tormented eyes and Draco's heart stuttered. There was so much pain, so much fear, so much fury there that Draco wondered just what had happened to upset him so.

"What's happened?" he pressed. "Are you okay?"

Harry placed his hands on either side of Draco's face and dropped his forehead against the blonde's. "Dear God," he moaned, and his muscles sagged. Draco was startled when Harry slid his strong arms around Draco's back, but even then couldn't understand just why Harry couldn't seem to breathe. He allowed Harry to drop his raven head upon his shoulder, and Draco's hands stroked his back and hair comfortingly.

"It's alright, Harry. You're okay."

Suddenly the absurdity of the situation struck Harry and he jolted up, once again clasping Draco's face in his powerful hands. "Listen to that!" he choked. "You're the one comforting me! Dear God!"

Draco flinched, not understanding. He misinterpreted Harry's words, his still-terrified mind twisting them until he found a condescending lilt in them. He tugged slightly, trying to disentangle himself from Harry's hands, and Harry jolted away with the gentle pull. He took a step back, chagrined for having forced himself so close to Draco.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I didn't think. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Draco whispered, and his eyes refused to meet Harry's.

"Are you sure? God, I was so scared he… did he hurt you?"

Draco shook his head.

Harry collapsed into the chair. "Oh, thank Merlin," he breathed. "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you while I was gone. I thought he'd hurt you, I was so… my God, I haven't been that… I couldn't imagine…"

Slowly realization dawned on Draco, and his eyes flickered upward. "You were worried about me?" he questioned softly, and Harry looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.

"Of course, Draco, what did you think I was doing here?"

Draco remembered the tumult he'd seen in Harry's eyes and smiled slightly. All of that had… had been for him? "Oh. Thank you."

The door opened and Rodney stepped in. "Sir? Um, Mike has been recovered. We need you out here."

"I'm busy," Harry said, waving Rodney away without turning his piercing eyes from Draco's.

"But, sir…"

"Leave," Harry reiterated.

Rodney left and moments later Dean filled the doorway. "Harry, get out here, now. You just threw a guy out the window," he said, then turned his attention to Draco, "I'm sorry," he said, and Draco was startled to find that Dean meant it. "But we won't take him for long."

Harry sighed raggedly and pushed his hands through his hair. "Dean…"

"Harry, you dumbass, stop being thick and get out here!" Seamus called from the other room.

Dean stepped further into the room. "I'll keep an eye on Malfoy, Harry," he promised. Harry bit his lip and turned his eyes to Draco, who once again had his eyes downcast.

"I'm okay, Harry, really. I'm sorry you have to go through all of this, for… for me."

Harry's lips twitched into a smile. "Don't worry, Draco, I'll be back."

Draco nodded. "It's okay."

He left, his eyes flitting over Dean with a warning in his steady eyes. Dean nodded slightly, not needing to be told to behave.

The door clicked behind Harry, and Draco shifted uncomfortably. "You don't really have to stay here," Draco stated calmly, and his eyes flitted over Dean's stoic features. "I know you have better things to be doing. I won't tell Harry if you leave."

Dean narrowed his eyes on the blonde. "I'm not leaving, Malfoy," he stated flatly, and Draco's eyes widened as they flew to meet Dean's. He shrank away ever so slightly, but the action was not missed by the auror.

Dean stepped back, chastened. "Malfoy, no, you misunderstood. I wasn't just telling Harry I'd watch over you to get him out of here, I meant it. I will stay here with you until he comes back. I also wanted to talk to you, if that's okay..? Or I could just… wait outside…"

Draco lowered his eyes. "You want to question me about Voldemort," he sighed, and his voice was not a question. Dean chewed his lip.

"No, not really. I wanted to ask you if you were okay. Do you want me to heal those scratches?"

Draco's eyes rose, confused. "Scratches?"

Dean nodded and motioned toward Draco's face. Draco raised a hand and brushed it across his cheeks. The scratches from Aldanas's fingers were there, barely bleeding. The reminder swept over Draco and he gasped. He began to wipe furiously at the blood, but Dean's hands on his stilled him. Dean pulled away the moment Draco stilled, his eyes asking the question.

"Yes, please," Draco rasped, his eyes slightly wild. Dean gave him a reassuring smile and made quick work of the thin lines. "Thank you," Draco murmured politely, and sank back against his pillows.

"Are you alright, Draco?" Dean asked, his eyes honest and concerned.

Draco cocked his head at his old school mate, noticing the use of his given name. "Don't pretend you don't hate me," he requested softly. "At least be honest about that."

Dean winced. "I don't hate you, Draco. I'm not saying I like who you used to be, but if Harry trusts you then you're alright in my book. I saw the way he was willing to defend you. He nearly strangled Mike the first time, when he insulted you. And now… I don't think Harry has ever…"

"Ever killed a man?"

Dean smirked. "Oh, Mike isn't dead, exactly. But he'll surely wish he was by the time Harry's through with him. That was one of the reasons I wanted Harry to attend to the matter ASAP. I wanted to surprise him a little."

"But… but he was so furious with Ald… Mike. Shouldn't you have warned him that he was alive?"

Dean smirked. "The reason I didn't tell him was because I knew how furious he was. Don't get me wrong, I don't condone murder, but Mike has always been the biggest sleazebag. As many times as he's blatantly insulted Harry, and now this, I figure Mike's due for a bit of an ass whooping. He wasn't in too bad a shape, he just broke his legs and a few ribs, I think. And maybe his cheeks, which it funny to see. And maybe his nose, too. Certainly his wrists and arms. And his clavicle. But other than that, he's in tiptop shape."

It took Draco a few seconds to realize Dean was joking, and when he did, he let out a hesitant chuckle.

Dean tossed a glance over his shoulder as though watching for someone, then leaned in toward Draco conspiratorially. "Can I tell you something, honestly?" he asked, and Draco shrugged elegantly. Dean began to take a step closer, then hesitated, his eyes searching Draco's.

"I'm fine, now…" Draco froze when he realized he didn't know the other's name. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he shook his head. "I'm fine," he stated firmly.

Dean strode forward a handful of steps and leaned a bit closer. "I've never seen Harry so upset as when he felt that you were in danger. We were just sitting around chatting when suddenly he started firing off questions and commands, and sent us scurrying all over the hospital trying to hunt down Mike." His eyes flashed guilt and he lowered them briefly. "I'm sorry to say none of us thought to look in here, though we should have known that Mike would resent you for being the topic of discussion which lost him his job."

"Lost him his job? How?"

Dean flicked him a mischievous grin. "Mike figured he'd be an ass about what happened to you, and Harry got a little peeved. Threw him against a wall and everything. Just about killed the little prick. Harry figured his disrespect and ill treatment of a charge of the Ministry of Magic was deplorable enough to have him released of his duties. Though I can't believe he got mad enough to try to come in here and hurt you, that only proved Harry's case."

Draco watched the other stiffly, his eyes calculating. He had been offered an easy way out of explaining the history he and this Mike shared, and was sorely tempted to take it. He feared, however, that if he didn't tell someone it would come back to bite him in the ass later, if the issue ever arose in court. His dishonesty could potentially harm his ability to be a witness.

"Ah…" Draco finally sighed, and Dean had long since fallen silent, waiting for the blonde to say what was on his mind. Dean could see confusion and frustration warring on the blonde's slender face, and waited patiently.

"Ah, sir, that's…"

"Dean," the other corrected automatically. "Don't call me sir, Draco, we went to school together; that's just weird."

Draco's lips twitched, glad the other hadn't wondered about the reason he hadn't said his name. Now that Dean had mentioned it, Draco remembered, Harry _had_ said it before he left.

"Thank you, Dean," he murmured, and then steeled himself. "Well, as I was saying…"

He cleared his throat, which was suddenly dry. Swallowing hard, his eyes roamed the room hoping for something handy to drink. Before they had even gotten halfway around the room, however, Dean was holding a cup of ice water out to him. "Here ya go, Draco."

Draco smiled more fully, truly grateful. "Thank you."

"You don't want me to tell Harry, whatever it is," Dean stated perceptively. Draco's shocked eyes asked the question his lips couldn't form. "Your eyes have been flicking to the door every other second, and the unease in your stance is telling me you're not watching out for him in order to tell _him_ something."

Draco chuckled lightly. "You're not an Auror for nothing, Dean," he said, and Dean smiled hugely.

"Thank you. I take that as a compliment," he responded.

Draco's smile fell as he prepared to explain just why Aldanas, or Mike, had been so intent on injuring him.

"Well, about Mike. I never knew him as Mike, I always knew him as Aldanas. M… Master Aldanas. He was one of the regulars at the House of Serenity. He always requested the same girl, one who was, I realize now, not part of Harry's detachment. He steered well clear of the others, again, because they would recognize him as one of Harry's men. He was always pestering me about Drowry's laws against violence." Draco was surprised at the speed at which the words spilled out of his mouth, but knew that his time to tell was limited. "He always asked me to make an exception for him because he was a regular. He always asked me to let him… to let him… be rough… with Maria. I never understood why he had to ask me, I didn't realize that Drowry was so strict in the protection of the girls. But then, one day, he got tired of asking me to let him… he got tired of asking me to help him out and instead… instead… He knew that Drowry was not as partial to me as she was the girls; he'd seen her strike me countless times, and knew she spared no thought for me. So he… so he… he asked Drowry… he asked her…"

Dean felt himself nearly vibrating with fury as the explanation progressed, and was glad that he hadn't known this story when he'd first found Mike halfway splattered on the sidewalk. He had never imagined that their teammate was such a sick and twisted son of a bitch. Knowing his history, Dean could easily envision himself "accidentally" stomping on the sleaze ball's throat.

"He asked her… if he could… could take… take… take… if he could take me instead. She told him I'd be twice the price because I was a virgin, and removed her 'no torture' policy from me. He was… he was the first… guest… I had to… cater to. But once she realized what a gold mine I had the potential to be, she started to advertise for me. She booked me for every hour there was someone to take me, and after the first month…"

Draco froze, realizing who he was speaking to. He hadn't ever known Dean, and he was quite sure Dean didn't have any interest in hearing about his worst memories of the place. He swallowed thickly and gulped some more of the water, but it did nothing to dislodge the lump in his throat. He cursed himself for his rambling and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to…"

"Don't apologize. Don't. Really."

"I shouldn't have bothered you with all of this," Draco whispered, and shivered. "I shouldn't be telling you this."

Dean cleared his throat. "Draco, look at me, please."

Draco shook his head, misery making his lids too weak to raise.

"Draco, please."

He let out a small whimper and opened his eyes to find Dean staring at him earnestly. Draco couldn't ignore the frank honesty he could feel pulsing in Dean's eyes.

"Sometimes," Dean began calmly, his voice soft and reassuring. "It's much easier to tell someone you hardly know this type of thing, because either way you hardly have to deal with them, and you can get it off your chest without having someone important affected by what you've told them. I'm not going to say that you should tell me just because I'm a trustworthy fellow, which I am, I'm going to tell you that you _can_ tell me because you look like you need to. I am not going to pester you, but I'm going to let you tell me what you feel you need to, and I'm going to listen and I'm not going to judge and I'm not going to repeat any of it. But if you honestly don't want to tell me, then you don't have to. I'll understand perfectly."

Tears welled in Draco's eyes, and he cursed himself again. He considered Dean's offer, but didn't really have to think hard. He knew he had to get if off his chest, and knew that he couldn't tell Harry, at least not yet.

"After the first month, she was able to book me for every hour of the day, save two, sometimes three if I were lucky. During those three hours, which were never consecutive, I would try to sleep, but rarely ever could. There were times… times when I needed sleep so badly, was so utterly exhausted by the lack of sleep and the injuries they'd dealt me that I simply stayed unconscious. A part of me felt what they were doing to me, but I couldn't make my mind awaken to protest. It never did any good anyway. Sometimes, though, I didn't feel anything, and I'd wake up in agony because they'd gotten angry at my inattention and gotten more violent than ever.

"Every tenth guest would be instructed to bring food into the room with them to allow me to eat. Not all of them bothered. Most of them thought it was funny to bring food in, eat it, then… then tell me they'd brought me some sausage to eat, and some milk to drink. They all thought that was outrageously funny and clever, for some reason. Drowry never bothered to follow up to see whether they were following her instructions, and so there were times I went for days without eating. It wasn't until the last week that I was able to eat daily, and that was because Padma had found me, and started sneaking scraps out of the kitchens for me.

"B… but for me, for some reason, though there were others who were more violent and more sadistic, Mas… Mike will always be the cause of the hell that I went through these last two months, because he… he was the first one to give Drowry the idea."

Draco paused and drew a shaky breath, his eyes lost in memory. Dean was so wrapped up in the horrifying tale that Draco was weaving that he hadn't felt Harry come into the room. Harry, feeling like an unwanted intruder but unable to leave because of his need to understand what was done to Draco, hovered awkwardly behind Dean, waiting for a moment to interrupt. He hated halting Draco's tirade, but he refused to leave and knew that Draco didn't want him to know this side of the issue… yet, Harry optimistically tagged onto the end of his thought. He finally realized his out when he noticed that his fingers were still curled around the edge of the door, and released his hold with a slight push. The door clicked closed softly, but from the reaction of the two other occupants of the room, it may as well have exploded.

They both jolted violently, as though coming out of a deep trance, Dean spinning to face the doorway and Draco's startled eyes flying upward.

"Dean, son, I figured when you said you were going to keep an eye on Draco you meant you were going to keep an eye out for potential dangers to Draco. I didn't realize you would be quite so literal," he teased, hoping to lighten the mood so that Draco would not know just how much he'd heard.

Dean, however, caught within the web of Draco's tale, did not recognize the teasing in his friend Harry's voice. Instead, he heard scorn from his commander Potter's voice.

Dean leapt up, horrified. "I'm sorry, sir. I… I'm sorry."

Harry cocked his head and smiled. "At ease, soldier," he joked. When Dean still did not grasp his easy manner, he switched gears. "Chill out, man, I was only kidding. I'm sure you would have snapped to attention in enough time to keep your wits were something to happen."

"I didn't even hear you come in," Dean pressed. "It was a lapse in judgment."

Harry placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You know you're my best Auror, Dean. Don't beat yourself up about it. I hate that I haven't been around enough lately for you to be able to tell that I was only jesting. You're my best mate, Dean, along with…"

Harry froze as he realized that Bad Timing herself was intent on making his life as uncomfortable as possible. Ron had just entered the room, and though he tried not to let his grimace show, Harry saw it clearly, and guilt washed over him.

"Yeah," Dean cut in, smiling widely suddenly. "Along with Ron, eh," he offered, and threw his arms around both Harry and Ron. "You've got good timing, mate, we were just about to talk about you!"

Harry smiled along with Dean and allowed the redhead to believe Dean's quick lie.

"Eh, shove off," Harry scowled playfully. "You guys are such _kids_!"

Dean smirked and brightened his eyes, then laced his fingers and danced from foot to foot playfully. "Daaaaaddddyyyy, can I get a BIG WHEEL for CHRISTMAS?!"

Ron laughed and piped up, allowing the comfortable familiarity the three used to share to sweep back over him. "But Daddy, I wanna trike-cicle, and a motor scooter, and a PONY! And a PUPPY and some KITTENS!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the pair. "Oi, sure, go get them yourselves!" he sniped, then fell into the roll anyway. "I give you your five dollar allowance, you should have saved all that up by now!"

Dean and Ron laughed, until Ron noticed Draco, who had his eyes uncomfortably downcast while he decided whether he should pretend to be asleep or just wait out their little scene.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Ron called with a smile. "How you feeling over there, buddy?"

Draco's eyes raised in shock to meet Ron's, and he couldn't find his voice. He had blamed this man for his imprisonment for so long, and suddenly the decision was thrust upon him to confront him, or to forgive him. He struggled with his decision silently, until suddenly Harry realized the reason for his silence. His eyes widened and flicked from Ron to Draco rapidly, back and forth, back and forth, before settling on Ron. "Hey, Ron, what was it you needed?" he asked, and attempted to lead the redhead from the room. "We can talk outsi…"

"It's alright, Harry," Draco sighed finally. "He doesn't have to leave. I can tell he wouldn't have intentionally betrayed you. I could see the look on his face when you said Dean was your best mate. It's hard to fake that type of hurt. And it wouldn't have hurt if he didn't value your friendship highly. I forgive him for being in charge when we were taken from the Ministry. Though, obviously, there is nothing to forgive."

Ron's eyes slowly hardened as he heard the blonde speak, but not in anger. Regret hardened his eyes to steel and he couldn't resist the compulsion to stride closer to Draco.

"I didn't… I didn't realize you would have… I mean… I've known what happened so long, it is difficult to remember that I was ever implicated. I… I… I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't intend to hurt you, because hell, I was going to hand you over to the Ministry with a smile and a wave. But I would never… _never_ put _anyone_ through… what you went through. Not even the ones who truly were Voldemort's men. I am sorry, however, that I was unable to find you two months ago. Knowing what I know now, I would have gone through hell and back to prevent what happened to you lot."

Draco found himself moved by the impassioned redhead, and sighed. "I know, Ronald. You're too much of a bloody Gryffindork to wish that on someone."

Ron smiled at Draco's attempt at a joke.

Harry, relieved, strode closer to Draco. He dropped a hand on the blonde's shoulder and squeezed. "Thank you," he whispered, and Draco saw in Harry's eyes how much the show of faith pleased him.

**_A/N: I figure a quick death was too easy for ole Mikey. grin_**


	13. and all is revealed

_**A/N: Everyone who likes that last chapter and this chapter give a BIG HUG to Jose, my best friend, beta, and most rabid reader! He had to go through a bit of a fuss to be able to upload them (even had to get out of bed! OH, the horror), because my computer hates us all and won't let me upload. So let's all show Jose some love! Thank you, Jose!**_

**_Now, onward! Hope you enjoy. Please continue reviewing :D_**

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Over the next two weeks Harry dug around in his mind trying to find any other revelations that could be dredged to the surface, and was pleased to find none. He was in no mood for any more tensely emotional display of any kind, whether the end result was pleasant or not. He had watched Draco steadily become more comfortable around him, and did not want anything to upset his charge's progress. He sighed as he relaxed against the stiff-backed chair the hospital had provided for him to sleep in, and his eyes roamed across the still form of Draco restlessly. He would find no sleep this night, despite his utter exhaustion. He had not let on to Draco, because of his instant guilt at having kept Harry at the hospital, but he had not been able to sleep a wink for the first three days which he had been watching over Draco. And as luck would have it, not half an hour after he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion and forced himself to rest, Draco had awakened. And for the last two weeks he had kept guard over Draco night and day, ensuring his safety and comfort whenever possible. It was beginning to wear on him. He could still hardly sleep except for cat naps which lasted at most five minutes with over two hours between. His neck, back, and ass were constantly sore from the unforgiving chair, and his and Sev's shop was suffering because of his absence. 

Yet none of these things could tear him away from Draco's side, because of the nights when Draco couldn't sleep.

Every three days or so, Draco asked subtly for Harry's comfort because he could not sleep. Harry had initially been hesitant to offer to sleep next to him, but when it seemed that nothing less would calm the restless blonde, he had made a habit of sliding in next to Draco every time a night came during which Draco could not sleep. On those nights, both Harry and Draco slept soundly.

Only recently had Harry begun to suspect that on the nights between, when Draco did not ask for him, Draco simply did not sleep at all.

Hoping that Draco had managed to slip into sleep, Harry began to sing softly to pass the time. He began with one of his favorite muggle songs, a soothing song by a typically hardcore rock band which had always stroked his very soul with its heart wrenching message. Wrought with longing and misery, the lyrics rolled across his soul and off his tongue with the grace of a practiced dance.

He smiled as he sang, amused by the sound of his own voice. He had never thought of himself as a particularly good singer, but his voice amused him nevertheless. He enjoyed hearing it, if for no reason other than the fact that there were times during his life when his own singing was the only thing which entertained him for weeks locked in the Dursley's house.

He continued to sing softly, switching between different songs of the same band, pleased with the way even the most unrelated songs blended into each other when he sang them just so.

He was on the third song when his heart stuttered to a halt and his voice choked him.

"I can hardly hear you," a soft voice complained from nearby, and Harry sat upright stiffly to eye Draco curiously.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked, chagrined. But he could see Draco's smile even in the dim.

"No, I never fell asleep. I just figured you would leave once I was asleep so I thought I'd give you a break."

Harry lowered his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, Draco, I didn't realize you… you want me to leave?"

"No!" Draco burst out, a bit too quickly. "That's not what I meant at all! I just meant I assumed you would have better things to do and I didn't want you feeling obligated to sit around and watch over little old me. I've kept you long enough away from your life."

"No," Harry corrected softly, but with emotion. "I want to be here, Draco, if you don't mind. Besides, I have no life."

"I don't mind," Draco promised, and smiled wider. "But I would like it if you'd sing a little louder. I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight."

Harry was undecided. He'd never had an audience before, and was terrified to let another hear his voice, sure they would decide he was a horrible singer and mock him for it. But Draco had asked so sweetly, and who was he to deny the blonde such a simple request? He shifted his chair closer and raised his voice just a little, so that Draco could hear, but not too clearly, and struck up another song.

Draco smiled as the song mentioned serpents, the animal both he and Harry were so closely linked to, if in different ways, but remained silent, only halfway listening to the words but completely focused on Harry's voice. Hesitantly, he shifted away from Harry in order to make room on the bed for him. He smiled crookedly and patted the bed in invitation. Harry paused in the song only long enough to slide into the bed, then continued even more softly, so that the boom of his voice did not rattle Draco's ear, which Draco had pressed to Harry's chest. Harry supported Draco with one arm behind his back and continued to sing, for the first time in his life letting someone aside from his reflection hear his voice in all its glory.

He let his soft voice caress the notes of the song lovingly, letting it tremble with emotion and spilling his soul into it. The song was one which had always fascinated him because of its imagery and seemingly senseless logic.

He had nearly finished the song when he felt Draco begin to relax into sleep in his arms. Seamlessly he slid into another song, not wanting a lull between to reawaken the blonde.

Draco's breathing had long since evened out, and Harry smiled down at him as he sang. He truly was a beautiful creature, strong, proud, and sweet.

Suddenly Harry's voice choked him for a long moment. He was such an idiot. He chided himself ceaselessly; always had, always would, but couldn't prevent himself from thinking the way he thought. From the moment he had realized who the blonde was in the House, seen the mark and heard his choking voice, seen the way he had defended Padma and been grateful for Harry's help in defending her, a little shimmer of Harry's old hope had returned.

Harry felt a tear slide down his own cheek and he continued singing softly, broken words spilling from a broken soul, unthinking, by now, of the words he sang. He sang even the most rough song in a soft lilting voice, not wishing to wake Draco by falling silent. His mind automatically drew forth a painful well of lyrical hell, his voice caressing words which ripped at his very soul as he pondered the beautiful creature in his arms.

But he was such a fool! Draco had made no secret of his lecherous ways with the females of Hogwarts and beyond, and had even shown outright scorn toward the few who had been brave enough to announce their homosexuality openly. There was simply no way Draco Malfoy would ever consider a relationship with another man.

When they had been in school together and during the war, there had been two major factors standing in the way of their relationship: Draco's heterosexuality and Draco's scorn for Harry's reputation as the hero of the wizard world.

Now, however, there were dozens more. The moment Harry had found out that perhaps his reputation was not so big a problem as it had been when they'd first met, he had also been assaulted with the vision of several men raping his precious Draco.

Every single man who had paid Drowry to be allowed to inflict their brand of hell on the imprisoned Draco was now a titanium wall between Harry and a relationship with Draco. Harry understood that Draco's fondness for his closeness would only last as long as Draco's mental instability lasted, and hated that he reveled in every moment he was invited to hold the blonde in his arms. He felt a wave of guilt at his feelings, knowing that what Draco saw as innocent comfort was so much more to Harry. As he considered the situation further, he realized how cruel he was in fact being to Draco. He was quite sure Draco would be positively revolted if he were to learn he was sleeping so soundly in the arms of a homosexual man…

_Of a faggot._

Harry's thoughts inevitably flew to his self-deprecating mentality, hating himself for wanting to kiss the lips of a man who had so maliciously been debased by so many others. _So violently raped_, Harry forced himself to think, and the stark reality of Draco's predicament grounded him. He knew that he could no longer deceive the blonde, knew that he could no longer hide behind the guise of a caring friend and official when in fact his every nerve screamed for Draco's touch. He knew he had to tell Draco the truth, but knew also that he could not force that information upon the blonde before he was more stable. He would have to bide his time and wait for Draco's mental health to return before he could reveal his long-kept secret, if then.

_Hell_, Harry mused. _He may heal so well that he no longer even wants to be around me, and I won't have to ever tell him._

Though he had intended this thought as a mini-pep talk, he could not help the stab of pain which shot through his heart.

Suddenly desperate to be away from the blonde and the innocence of friendship he offered, Harry slid himself gently out of the bed. His voice had died and he hadn't the heart to continue singing, so instead he hoped fervently that Draco would not awaken.

His guilt at his own imaginings and desires crushed him, making his throat close and his hands shake. He berated himself harshly for his perversion, hating himself for wanting to hold the blonde in more than a comforting way. He felt tears in his eyes and wiped them away furiously. He had foolishly held out some type of hope that one day the blonde would come to care for him that way.

_Fool!_ He chided himself, and more tears followed. _You're behaving childishly! You're reacting like a teenaged girl who's just had her first love show up to the prom with another guy, yet you're a grown man!_

_Why did you ever bother_? He asked himself ceaselessly. He had known, his entire life, that Draco would never be his, and yet here he was, years later, mourning the loss of his first love.

_He was never yours,_ a tiny part of his voice cackled. _He never has and never will belong to you._

He found himself halfway down the hall from Draco's room before his strength failed him. He stumbled into the wall and slid down to the floor, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. He hated himself even more for allowing this weakness, but could not stop himself from trembling. He had loved Draco for so long, so very long, and to have that love suddenly not only unrequited but most definitely seen as a perversion, something to fear and scorn even more so now than ever, was too much to bear. He had mourned the day Draco had sided with Voldemort, but even then had harbored some foolish hope that the blonde would somehow repent and return to the light. Then, in light of the massive impact the disappearance of the guards and prisoners had on the wizarding world, he had had so much loss to lament that he had not allowed himself to focus on his Draco. And oh, the irony that now, in the hour of what should be Harry's greatest victory in years, he had to once again mourn the loss of hope. To have found the blonde again, beaten and pained, but alive, had sent Harry's heart aflutter, even knowing the hopelessness of his love. He cursed every day the bitter pangs of unrequited love, longed for a day when the proud and beautiful blond would look his way with something other than scorn in his eyes. Now, Harry mused, the day had come when Draco no longer hated him, but even that was not enough to satisfy him.

He heard, even over his tumultuous thoughts and self-hate, the scuff of a shoe against the shiny hospital floors. His head jerked up quite of its own accord, and his tortured green eyes clashed and held onto Ron's. Unwillingly, he kept his tear-streaked face level, not able to look away from the confusion and concern in Ron's caring eyes.

"What's happened?" Ron questioned softly, crouching down to bring himself level with Harry. He reached a hand out and clasped Harry's shoulder comfortingly. "What's wrong?"

Harry, finally released from the spell he'd encountered the moment he'd met Ron's eyes, dropped his head once more, the pain of his hopelessness too much to bear. "I'm fine," he moaned, and knew that Ron would never take that for an answer but wanting to forestall the moment when he had to tell the truth. His headstrong friend was never one to back down without helping him out.

Then again, that was before their two-year argument.

"Oh," Ron said, his voice dejected. "Okay, it's none of my business," he decided, and pulled his hand away. "I'm… I'm sorry I intruded." He stood to move away, his shoulders hunched.

"No! Ron, no, it's not that," Harry reeled, guilt at having brushed off his best mate welling to beat away enough of his personal turmoil to allow him to think clearly. "I just… I just don't want to talk about it…"

"No, I understand, I'll leave you alone," Ron murmured.

"…here. No, Ron, let me finish, please, I just don't want to talk about it _here_. Please, just… can we go somewhere more private?"

Ron glanced around the hallways, which were utterly deserted because of the late hour, but didn't question Harry. "Sure, mate, of course we can."

Harry forced a hesitant smile and allowed Ron to help him to his feet. "Is there anyone around who can keep an eye on Draco for me?" he asked.

"Uh… sure, I can get Seamus over here," he offered. "He's always up late."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he accepted, and they stepped into the nearest office with a floo grate. Ron called their old schoolmate into the office while Harry made himself presentable. He did not want to worry his men.

"Seamus," Ron greeted. "Sorry to call you over so late but we need someone to keep an eye on Malfoy for a little while so I can get Harry to sign off on some of the paperwork."

Harry smiled as Ron lied easily for him, grateful that the redhead was not making a scene. It was not uncommon for Harry to have to report to the Ministry at all hours of the night in order to sign off on urgent matters.

"It's not a problem at all," Seamus brushed off Ron's apology easily. "I was up anyway."

Ron tossed a wink at Harry. "Told ya so," he joked for the benefit of Seamus. Their schoolmate was bound to notice the somber mood if they didn't address each other.

"Thanks, Seamus," Ron gushed. "You're a lifesaver!"

"Sure thing, mate. Don't have too much fun, now," he warned teasingly, and sauntered out to report to Draco's room.

"Thank you, Ron," Harry murmured, and Ron gave his shoulder a pat. Words were not needed as Ron gestured to the grate.

"Potter Manor," Harry instructed as he stepped into the floo, and soon found himself spinning into his living room. He stepped out of the way to allow Ron to come after him, and collapsed onto the couch immediately.

Ron sat across from him in one of the overstuffed chairs, his eyes patient as he watched his friend. He waited for Harry to speak, knowing that the raven haired man would open up in time if he so chose, and willing to wait until that time rather than press him.

"I... have you ever..." Harry choked on his words as he began, and had to start again. "I know this is all really bad timing, but... there's something you should know about me, Ron."

Ron's eyes were attentive and Harry could see the patience of hours within their depths. The longer he stared into those eyes the more he could imagine the redhead simply waiting all night for him to finish, unperturbed by the time. He sighed and knew that, however tempting and reassuring that startlingly mature patience was, he would not, could not test it.

"I'm in love with Draco Malfoy," he spat quickly, and though he was tempted to hide his face in shame, he resisted, watching Ron's oh so patient eyes for his reaction.


	14. the truth of one's feelings

**_A/N: Hope you all like roller coasters, cause more is a'comin! Who all is in it for the long haul? ;-D Hope you like..._**

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He had expected scorn. He had expected surprise. He had expected an explosion. What he had not expected was a bright smile.

"I was wondering if you'd ever tell me!" Ron gushed, and visibly relaxed. "Gah, you had me thinking something was really wrong!"

Harry tensed, not understanding.

"Ron, you do realize what I've just said, don't you?"

"Yeah, so you're gay, so what? So are half the guys from Hogwarts."

Harry dropped his head and waited. He wagered that it wouldn't take Ron too long. He counted slowly, suddenly finding himself the one with endless patience.

Two… three… four… five…

"Oh, Christ!" Ron swore softly, his voice heavy with the gravity of the realization. "Harry… Christ, mate, I'm sorry. Damned if I'm not sorry."

Harry felt the tears threatening, and shook his head. "Don't give me sympathy right now, Ron, you'll just make it worse. Say something, make me stop feeling this, make me realize what an _idiot_ I am for having fallen in love with not only the _straightest_ guy in Hogwarts but one who eventually became my arch enemy, and then once it was decided he _wasn't _my enemy, was… was repeatedly and violently raped by a bunch of overgrown bastards."

Ron was suddenly next to Harry, his arm draped over his shoulder. "Harry, mate, you're not an idiot. You're not an idiot at all. Don't get yourself down about it. You've done nothing wrong."

Harry leaned into Ron's shoulder, the tears renewed by Ron's understanding. "No, damn it, I'm an idiot."

"Stop beating yourself up, Harry."

"No, Ron, what was I thinking! I'm such a fool! Only I would be stupid enough to fall for the last man on earth who would ever even think about me that way!"

Ron couldn't help the grin that tugged his lip sideways. "Don't worry, mate, I don't think of you that way either."

The absurdity of that statement brought a surprised laugh to Harry's lips. However his amusement was short-lived, and the tears immediately chased away his smile. "I feel like such a silly little school girl who's had her first crush taken away. I can't believe how childish I'm being!"

Ron tilted his head to rest it atop Harry's, which was buried in his shoulder. "Hey, now, none of that, now. Listen, Harry, you're not being a child, nor are you being a girl. Obviously Draco is more than just a schoolgirl's crush, and obviously you're more than just a schoolgirl. You're a grown man who has had his first love..?" he paused, assuming the answer but leaving Harry time to correct him. He continued when Harry nodded miserably. "… taken away from him in a terrible manner. You're not a fool for having wanted Draco Malfoy. Hundreds of people did. And you have to realize, this man is someone that you obviously care deeply for. These tears you're shedding are not just for yourself, though in your self-deprecating haze you've convinced yourself, I'm sure, that you're just a sick pervert who is lusting after a victim who will never welcome him…"

"Way to make me feel better, Ron," Harry groused, and Ron shushed him impatiently.

"I'm just saying that to make you see how foolish your self-loathing is. You're not in the wrong. Now listen, because I'm about to make a good point. The pain you're feeling is not just for yourself, thought you've convinced yourself it is. You're mourning for Draco on so many different levels you're not even sure what you're mourning anymore. You're mourning for him as one of your loyalists and as the man you first fell for, you're mourning for him as a victim and for him as a soldier, you're mourning for him as a friend and for him as a would-be lover, and for your loss of love, and for your loss of hope, and for his loss of innocence, and for his pain, and his misery. Don't you see? It's like each of these facets of the problem are magnifying the problem in your mind, and there's no way to handle that all at once."

Harry allowed Ron's words to sink in for a long moment before he spoke again.

"I don't understand," he admitted, frustrated.

Ron shrugged. "Yes you do, it's just so convoluted and stupidly simple that you have no idea what I just said. All I mean is that there are a hundred facets of your relationship with Draco, and you're mourning the fact that you feel you've lost them all, and the fact that you have always hurt with your men when they're injured. So to see one of your men be put through so much blatant torture is tearing you up. Plus the added facets of everything he is to you."

Harry nodded, but didn't speak. His throat had long since closed. He understood the redhead's message, but didn't know how to address it. Several long minutes passed, and Ron permitted Harry to cry onto his shoulder.

"Come on, Harry," Ron began gently, when he heard Harry's breathing even out somewhat. "Let's get you to bed and you can sleep on it."

"I can't sleep," Harry objected, though his voice was thick with exhaustion.

"Then let's get you to bed so I can Stun you," Ron corrected easily, and Harry snorted.

"Alright, I'll try," he relented, knowing that Ron would in fact find a way to force him to sleep if he didn't try to rest.

Ron helped him to his feet and into the hallway but soon realized that Harry's lack of solid sleep had worn him out. He scooped Harry into his arms, ignoring Harry's single soft protest, and made his way to Harry's room.

Gently, he placed the exhausted man into bed, smiling to notice that Harry was asleep before his head hit the pillow. He snagged the spare blanket from the closet and draped it over Harry, knowing his tendency to get chilled. He left the room and turned off the light, pleased with the strides he and Harry had taken that night.

Though he was in no way happy that Harry was in such a state, he was decidedly happy that Harry had trusted him with his thoughts. He had wanted for so long to be Harry's friend again, and had feared that even after their reunion things would never quite be the same. Yet it was obvious that Harry was in fact making an effort to be what they used to be, and entrust Ron with his friendship.

It was quite some time that Ron sat on Harry's couch, his head tilted back and his thoughts roving a million places. He considered all that he had learned about Draco and all that he knew about Harry, and all that he had said to and heard from Draco. A million thoughts flitted through his brain, but he finally fell asleep with his head propped on his shoulder, sitting upright on Harry's couch.

* * *

Severus strode into the hospital with his typical haughty stride, watching with pleasure as he got fearful looks from everyone he passed. Apparently, having lost his temper in a rather dangerous fashion the last time he was a patient here had earned him a healthy amount of fear. The healers still had the memory of his furious denial of their idea of healing. 

He made his way automatically to the room where he was sure he would find the one he sought, not bothering to halt at the reluctant protests of the healers. He flicked the door open and froze when he saw the Irish brat from Hogwarts reclined in Harry's chair and his godson pretending to be asleep with his back to the door.

He made his way to Draco's bedside and gazed down at him.

"Draco," he whispered.

Draco tensed slightly and let his eyes slide open. A slow, pleased smile made its way onto his lips as he recognized his godfather.

"Severus," he replied, and sat up to shake Sev's hand. Severus allowed him his space, though every fiber in his being wanted to perform in a very un-Snape way and gather his wounded godson into his arms.

"I'm so glad you're alive," he rasped instead, his voice thick with emotion. "I knew you were taken in with the prisoners, and not knowing where you were ate at me constantly."

"I'm alive, Uncle," Draco responded simply, not sure how to respond to his godfather's uncharacteristic show of affection.

"Drake, I'm so sorry that I was never able to find you. I've tried… I've tried since the day you disappeared. My worst fear was that you had truly been one of them…"

"I wasn't, Uncle," Draco interrupted. "I was trying to play the spy. I just wasn't as good as you." He gave Sev a crooked, hesitant smile.

Severus sighed. "I had always hoped. And Harry, I think, knew as well. The moment he brought you here he summoned me, I came as quickly as I could…"

Draco winced with the knowledge that his godfather had seen him at his worst.

"Harry seemed to be just as shaken by your state as I, he must have known that you were on our side."

Draco smiled lightly. "He's been very supportive of me," he agreed. "When we spoke in the House of Serenity, he needed very little convincing that I was not against him any longer. He is a good man."

Sev echoed Draco's smile. "That is disgustingly true," he joked, and spun when Seamus awoke with a snort.

Severus narrowed his eyes on the Irish brat, his ire pricked by his inattention to Draco. "Where's Potter?" he asked coolly.

"He's ah, he and Ron went to the ministry to fill out some paperwork last night. Ron had me come in to watch over Malfoy."

"A right good job you're doing," Severus hissed. He motioned toward the blonde. "He's more bloody alert than you are. Why the hell are you asleep when you should be guarding your charge?"

Seamus narrowed his eyes. "Shove off, you crackpot old fool, I know my job and I would have awakened had something happened."

"Oh, yes, you would have awakened the moment I'd said _stupefy, _I can tell."

Draco placed a hand on Severus's shoulder. "Just leave him be, Sev," he requested. "Harry and Ron left at around one in the morning, and I'm sure Seamus didn't expect to be here this long. He asked for someone to relieve him about three hours ago but there are only three people Harry would trust to watch over me, and Dean was busy. Ron was with Harry himself. So Seamus had to stay."

Seamus raised a brow, surprised at how well-informed Draco was. "I thought you were asleep," he pointed out needlessly.

"I haven't been able to sleep," Draco replied.

Severus eyed his godson carefully. "Are you…"

"I'm fine, Uncle," Draco cut in.

Severus smirked. "You're a peculiar child, Draco Malfoy."

Draco snorted. "I'm not a child."

"So you admit you're peculiar?"

"And proud of it," he responded with a half-smile.

"So did Harry tell you what paperwork he had to fill out? It's never taken this long before," Seamus interrupted.

Draco lowered his eyes, the reminder of Harry's departure making his heart hurt. He had wanted so badly to reach out to Harry, to ask him what was making him so sad, but knew, somehow, that Harry would not welcome his interest in the matter.

"Dunno," he responded. "He thought I was asleep, too."

"Ah," Severus nodded. "In light of this, I must go find that whelp, Draco. I'll return later to speak to you more. And Seamus, I'll retrieve Dean before I leave so that you may be relieved…"

"Don't bother," Draco interrupted. "I'm fine, I don't need a babysitter."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Thank you very much, Mister Malfoy, but I am perfectly content to have the flesh of my throat perfectly connected, and have no desire to have it slit open by a pissed-off schoolboy. However if I ever get the need, I'll go ahead and leave you unattended."

Draco pouted. "You're so dramatic," he complained. "It's not like I'm really that big of a deal."

Severus bit back a laugh and rolled his eyes. "You keep telling yourself that, Draco."

"I'm not!"

"We'll talk later," Sev promised, and left the room in a swirl of cloaks.

Within three minutes, Dean rushed into the room, eyes wide and hands trembling.

"What's wrong!" Seamus asked immediately, concerned for his friend.

Dean looked at him, terror written across his features.

"I just talked to Snape," he explained. "He… said I should report here."

Both Draco and Seamus burst out laughing.


	15. can prompt redemption or scorn

**_A/N: Thank you for your reviews!_**

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Severus smirked as he left the hospital, pleased at the effect he'd had on Dean. He apparated instantly to the Potter mansion, not bothering to knock. He found Ron first, slumped against the side of the couch, and smiled. He levitated Ron carefully and repositioned the boy into a more comfortable position so that he wouldn't be too sore when he awoke, then made his way to Harry's room.

After a brief glance to be sure all was well, he made his way to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast for the pair. He marveled that Ron had been able to drag Harry away from the blonde long enough for him to actually fall asleep. There must be more than meets the eye with the redhead, Severus decided.

Eventually the clanging of the pans awoke said redhead, and he stumbled into the kitchen blearily.

"'mornin, Se'rus," he greeted, his voice still thick with sleep. "Wha're you doin 'ere?"

Severus smiled genuinely, and nodded toward the eggs and bacon. "Hungry?"

"Rav'nous."

"Eat."

"Mmkay."

Ron dug into the food Severus placed before him, and after a while found himself able to think properly again. He wiped his mouth and tossed Severus a grin as he swallowed the last bit of egg. "That was good, thank you."

Severus bowed his head regally. "You're welcome."

"So what _are _you doing here this morning?"

"Cooking breakfast," he replied, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Aye, guess that is one answer."

Severus chuckled. "I had some questions for Harry. When I went to the hospital Seamus told me he'd had some paperwork to finish up hours ago. So I came here."

"Nice detective work," Ron teased, and nodded toward Harry's room. "He'll probably be out for a while, is there anything I can help you with?"

Severus shook his head and studied the redhead. Out of seemingly nowhere, a horrible thought came to his mind, and he tensed.

"There was no paperwork," he pointed out, and Ron's eyes widened.

"What do you…"

"What did you bring Harry here for?"

Ron flushed angrily. "You're saying I'm a liar!"

"Well you are, so don't bother getting all flustered. Just tell me the truth. I'll stop calling you a liar then."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "It's none of your business."

"If you have done anything to upset my apprentice then it bloody well is my business! I saw the look on Draco's face when he said Harry thought he was asleep last night, now I want to know just what you've done to him!"

"I didn't do anything to Harry!" Ron snapped. "I brought him here because I found him in the…" he snapped his mouth closed. "That's Harry's business to tell," he decided, and shook his head. "But I've done nothing to him. He's my friend. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him."

"I wasn't only implying that you may have hurt him," Severus replied coldly.

Ron paled. "You're saying… you're suggesting that _I_… I'm… what the hell! I didn't… I'm _married! _You're insane!"

Severus's ire cooled as he viewed the outrage in Ron's stance. "He was upset, wasn't he?" he asked, his voice noticeably warmer. He eyed Ron. "Harry. You were going to say you found him in the hallway crying, weren't you?"

"No, I was going to say I found him in the ballroom with the lead pipe," Ron snapped, then furrowed his brow. "How did you…"

"It's alright, Ron. I understand perfectly now. I'm sorry for my accusation, but I feel very protective toward our young Potter, as I'm sure you understand. Please forgive my implications."

Ron dipped his head in a way strongly reminiscent of the elder man, and held his tongue. Obviously there was more going on than Ron could see, and Severus knew of Harry's dilemma.

"Forgiven," he agreed, and there was a moment of tense silence.

"Oh, Dean has taken over watching over young Malfoy, but he was kind of in the middle of something when I requested he relieve Seamus…"

"Oh! I didn't even think about Seamus being stuck there all night! Damn! That's fine, I'll go and relieve Dean. Thank you for letting me know."

He was out the floo before Severus had finished his sentence. Sev smiled. The boy had to have some pretty tough balls to have rushed out of Sev's presence without shaking in fear.

Sev busied himself around the house, taking care of the basics of the household which Harry had been neglecting, which took him several hours. He tidied and generally kept himself busy to prevent himself from succumbing to the urge to speak to Harry immediately. It was a long day for Severus as he waited to question his young charge about his suspicions, and he hated that he was too considerate to just barge in and wake Harry up.

Finally, at around noon, Harry made his way out of the room, his step heavy. But to Severus's chagrin he immediately made his way into his bathroom to jump in the shower.

Severus tapped his fingers as he waited.

The moment Harry stepped out of the bathroom, a towel tucked around his hips and his hair still dripping, Severus pounced.

"You told me years ago that you were gay," Severus said, and it sounded like an accusation. Harry paused en route to his room to dress.

"Um… yes, in fact I did," he agreed, more curious than offended by Severus's gruff manner.

"You were drunk as hell and told me many things that I had no interest or business knowing."

"Um… I'm sorry?"

Severus waved off the hesitant and confused apology. "I don't really care, but after that night I knew you a hell of a lot more than I ever expected to."

"Okay," Harry agreed, and made his way into the kitchen to plop down on one of the stools around the bar. He suspected that Severus would be a while in making his point.

"One of the things you told me was your… preference."

"Which preference is that?" Harry questioned, suddenly vastly amused by this show of discomfort by the unshakable Potions master.

"Of… being… dominant."

Harry coughed a laugh and felt his cheeks flame. "Yes, okay, I understand."

Severus hated his inability to behave like an adult and sighed. "You said there was no way in hell anyone would ever roll you over," he reminded Harry. The younger man blushed more deeply.

"I'm hoping this is going somewhere, because suddenly I'm extremely uncomfortable having this conversation with you while sitting at my counter wearing a towel."

Severus couldn't help the burst of laughter he let slip. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry, if you want to go get dressed, I'll wait."

Harry shrugged. "I'll deal. Obviously you've been waiting all day, so I'll let you go on."

Severus furrowed his brow. "How is that obvious?"

Harry gestured around the room with a grin. "Everything's spotless."

Severus growled. "Fine. Okay, yes, I've been keeping busy. So alright. What I mean is, you told me you would never let someone roll you over."

The blush returned full-force to Harry's cheeks.

"Save one person."

Suddenly Harry's heart skidded to a halt as he realized just where this line of questioning was going. He had forgotten much of that night, and had never realized the extent of his admissions to Severus.

He stood abruptly, no longer able to listen as Severus blundered through his line of explanation. He was halfway out the door before Severus had the presence of mind to go after him. "Harry, wait! You said you'd wait! Get back here!"

Harry wasn't listening. He felt his heartbeat bordering on hysteria as he fled his professor, not wanting to be reminded of his confessions. He didn't want to see Sev's face as he realized what a fool his young apprentice was.

Harry's footfalls steadily increased as he made his way from the kitchen toward his room, clutching the towel where it was tucked around his hips. The water which still dripped its way down his legs made his footsteps echo wetly through the halls.

"It's Draco, isn't it, Harry?" Severus called after him. Harry froze instantly. His breath was coming in short little gasps, and he could hardly tell where one beat of his heart stopped and the other began. He was nearing full-blown panic by the time Severus's slow and steady stride brought him level with Harry. "You're in love with Draco, aren't you?"

The calm words were the key that sent him over the top. His feet threw him into motion and he crashed through his bedroom door within moments. Frantically pulling clothes out of his dresser he threw them on without bothering to dry himself. The water from his hair streamed into his eyes and down his neck, mingling with the tears he felt pouring out of his eyes.

Severus strode into the room moments later, and watched as Harry fumbled for his shoes.

"Where are you going, Harry?" Severus questioned softly.

Harry's red-rimmed eyes flew to Severus's. "I have to get back to work. The shop needs two people there to run it. I have to get back to work."

"Not like that, you aren't," Severus corrected him. "You'll blow up every cauldron we have. You are released from duty, and you should report to the hospital to continue your vigil over young Malfoy."

"Don't you see!" Harry exploded, his voice holding the force of a scream behind it. "I can't go back there now! I never should have stayed there as long as I did! The last thing Draco needs is some sick fucking faggot drooling down his back!"

Severus's eyes hardened. "Harry…"

"Shut up! Yes, you're right, I'm in love with Draco! Every time I look at him I want to kiss him! Happy now? I feel like I'm going to go insane when I'm holding him in my arms. But I'm just another fucking gay guy lusting after him! Don't you see that! If I go there now, and Draco finds out later, from somewhere else, perhaps, that I'm gay, then what exactly do you think will happen to him? Right now he finds comfort with me, but can you imagine the effect it'll have on him when he finds out that I wasn't only interested in comforting him? Even if he is emotionally stable, that alone will set him back months! To find out that the guy he put his trust in was lusting after him the entire time he was healing him! Merlin, how much would that fuck with his mind!"

"You're not just another gay guy, Harry. He wasn't able to sleep last night because you weren't there. You mean a lot to h…"

Harry's tears renewed. "That doesn't help anything, Severus! He only welcomes the comfort I offer because he doesn't know what I am! He doesn't know that I'm gay, he doesn't know that I'm in love with him, and only him! If ever he finds out that the guy who helped him get over being raped and tortured for two months was exactly the type of person he had just escaped from, what will that do to him! He'll…"

"You want to torture him?" Severus snapped, suddenly impatient with Harry's self-loathing.

"No!" Harry screamed, horrified.

"You want to rape him?"

"No! What the hell…"

"You're interested in hurting him while you fuck him?"

Harry's words were hardly intelligible. "How could you think that of me?" he questioned, trembling form his own guilt and Severus's sudden violence.

"If you aren't, if you don't want to chain him down so you can fuck him then don't you _dare_ compare yourself to the sick sons of bitches who were in that place! Potter, you're a complete fucking fool if you think you're anything like those men! A man isn't a pervert because he finds a woman pretty any more than you are for finding Draco attractive!"

"But…"

"Just because you don't happen to be female doesn't mean you are some kind of freak for wanting Draco!"

"I'm…"

"You're a grown man who should be more secure in your sexuality than this! So you're gay. _So what_! You're still the same person you always were, and don't you ever think any differently! You're not the type of person who would assault someone, Harry Potter. Even if you do find Draco attractive, you'll never do anything without his consent. You're no freak, Harry, you're a grown man who's in love with someone. That shouldn't be something you hate yourself for. Don't you get it? Love, Harry, is never something sick. You're not just after Draco because you figure he'll be an easy fuck, you're _in love with him_. That's not anything to be ashamed of."

Harry slumped to the bed, listening but torn. What Sev had said made sense, yet he couldn't forgive himself for wanting Draco so badly. His self-recrimination had been bred from such a fundamental part of himself that it was difficult to imagine living without it.

He so wanted to trust what Severus said. He so wanted the world to work that way.

But it didn't, and his love for Draco would never be accepted. Not by who mattered: Draco himself.

"You think that," he moaned, and covered his face. "But Draco won't ever think that way. He was raped. He was tortured and raped. He will not see it that way."

Severus felt his heart go out to the youth before him, but didn't know how to help him. He felt in his heart that Harry would be making a mistake in abandoning the young blonde, but could not find the words to say that. So instead, he decided to try to use guilt to reel the fiery youth in, knowing that his pride and sense of responsibility would not allow him to shirk his charge even now.

"Harry, no matter what Draco will think when he finds out, I think it is important you continue watching over him. I know it will be difficult, but he needs you now, and you cannot allow your personal feelings to get in the way of that responsibility. Had you left before he'd awakened he never would have developed this need for your presence, perhaps, but that cannot be changed now. He equates your presence with the comfort he knew in sleeping, and now needs that presence in order to rest easy. I understand that you think any progress he has made in a few months will be shattered should he find out about your sexuality, but if you are not there for him now, there is a chance he simply won't make progress at all. At this point nothing is certain but the fact that he is only comfortable with you near. It is too soon in his recovery for us to test that."

Harry let his shoulders droop guiltily. Sev was right, of course. He could not risk stunting Draco's healing simply because of his own fear. He had to continue on the path he had beaten, even against his better judgment.

He felt Severus approach and let himself be tugged into an embrace. His tears were dried against Sev's shirtfront, and within moments, he stood straight, resolved to his fate.

"I will not let this interfere with me helping him," he decided firmly, and Sev patted his back.

"I'm proud of you, Harry Potter," Severus murmured, and Harry's heart broke. Even though at various times in his life people had tossed that phrase to him, it was only after a particularly spectacular win against the dark. Never before had someone truly meant it, never before had someone he loved whispered it into his ear with such heart wrenching honesty.

"Thank you, Sev," he responded softly, meaning it from the depths of his soul.


	16. while trust is tested

_**A/N: **_**_Please continue reviewing :D_**

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Draco positively beamed when Harry strode through the door, though he could sense the raven haired one's hesitance. His Harry had returned, and seemed to have regained his usual spirit. Draco sorely wanted to question him about the sorrow he had heard in his strong voice as he'd sung, but knew that he would have to bide his time.

"I'll take over from here," Harry tossed to Ron. "Thank you," he added, his eyes showing his tumultuous emotions for a moment. "For everything."

Ron grinned. "Sure thing, mate," he responded, and clasped Harry's shoulder comfortingly before he disappeared through the doorway.

"How did you sleep?" Harry asked, and almost winced at his own awkwardness.

Draco sighed, resisting the obvious toehold into his line of questioning. He would get a chance later. "Fine, considering."

Harry bit his lip, not believing.

"No nightmares," Draco supplied with a smile. He was able to speak the line honestly. Since he hadn't slept, he hadn't been plagued by nightmares.

Harry seemed to see through him.

"Is that so?"

Draco nodded.

"I guess it is hard to have the type of nightmares you're talking about while you're wide awake."

"How did you..?"

"Snape told me," he cut in. "He told me you were awake most of the time Seamus thought you were asleep. I'm only assuming you woke because I left?"

The guilt of that possibility was evident in Harry's eyes. He lamented his stupidity, letting himself be whisked away and made to sleep well in his own home. Meanwhile, Draco was imprisoned sleepless and anxious with people he didn't know in a hospital, on one of the single most uncomfortable beds in history.

The fact that Draco did not deny it twisted Harry's heart. "I'm sorry, I never should have left. I didn't realize…"

_What a pathetic creature I am?_ Draco degraded himself mentally. "No, Harry, it's not your fault." Suddenly Draco realized the extent of his own foolishness, and he spouted his guilt without thinking. "It's not your fault I can't sleep without you here, I'm a big boy now, I shouldn't be selfish enough to keep you tied up babysitting me when you have…"

Harry placed a single finger over Draco's lips, and Draco fell silent immediately. "I have nowhere else I'd rather be," he promised. "For as long as you want me here I shall stay."

Draco smiled against the finger on his lips. "Okay," he agreed, for the first time instantly reassured. "Thank you."

Harry pulled his finger away, barely resisting the urge to trace those so soft lips with his fingertips. He had been a fool to touch them; now, he didn't only suspect they were soft, he had the feel of them on his fingertips to prove it.

"What ever happened with M… Mike?" Draco asked, concern for Harry's guilt in the matter seeping into his voice.

"Well, he swore up and down that he was going to have me sued and thrown into Azkaban because of my behavior, but whenever I told the team who came to arrest me what happened they said it shouldn't be a problem. They just wanted me to go fill out some paperwork and the like. I'll probably have to counter-sue the bastard because of how weird laws can be. I don't know, honestly, but I'm sure I'll be fine."

Draco lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry. It should be me having to deal with all of that."

Harry cocked his head. "No, it shouldn't. You have enough to worry about as it is, Draco. You have to virtually start your life over. You've just returned from the dead."

Draco smirked. "True," he agreed. "One hell of a start I've made already," he bit out sarcastically, eyeing the hospital room. "When can I get out of here?"

"Shouldn't be too long, now," Harry assured him. "Mostly right now you're just under observation, since your wounds are pretty much healed."

A harsh laugh erupted from the blonde. "So I'm just here so they can make sure I'm not mental?"

Harry didn't deny the observation, instead opting to change the subject. "Was there anything you need? Water, food, anything?"

"Yes, Dean and Ron ate all of my food and stole my milk money."

Harry snorted. "Alright, smart-ass. See if I offer you anything again."

"Actually, a little water would be appreciated," Draco laughed.

The sight stole Harry's breath away. He watched the humor spill into Draco's features and would have given anything in the world to freeze the moment.

Instead, he mechanically reached out and filled a cup for Draco.

"Thanks," the blonde grinned, sipping at the lukewarm tap water. He resisted the urge to gag. It tasted like three-day-old toilet water.

"Oh, just a warning," Harry piped up. "That water tastes like shit."

Draco snorted into the cup. "Thanks a lot," he groused, setting the cup aside.

Harry rose. "I'll get you something better," he assured him, and disappeared through the door. Moments later he returned with a cold bottle of water, which he uncapped and forked over.

"My hero," Draco gushed dramatically as he drank half the bottle in three huge gulps.

"You haven't had anything to drink lately, have you," Harry accused.

Draco raised a single brow and looked scathingly at the cup at his side. "That water tastes like shit," he echoed. Harry laughed.

Severus swept into the room, something akin to a smile gracing his lips. "Potter," he greeted coolly before turning his attention to Draco. "How are you feeling, young Malfoy?" Harry stood gracefully to face the newcomer.

Draco raised a brow. "I'm fine, but… you and Harry still don't get along?" he questioned, finding the possibility highly unlikely.

"No, actually we're in business together," Harry piped up cheerfully. "He just likes to pretend he's not a big softie."

Severus curled his lip. "I am _not_ a big… softie."

Harry sidled closer. "You're not?"

Severus eyed him distrustfully. "No, I most certainly am not."

Harry pounced, wrapping his arms tightly around the elder wizard. "Sure you are!" he exclaimed, climbing nearly onto Severus's shoulders.

Draco let out a surprised laugh as Severus simply sighed at the young wizard clamoring all over him. "Potter, would you mind?"

Harry scowled and dropped to the floor. "You're no fun," he pouted.

Severus tossed Draco a wink and a grin. "Works every time. If you take the fun out of something, he stops immediately."

Harry growled and flung himself into the chair. "So mean to me!" he lamented.

Draco and Severus rolled their eyes simultaneously. "So dramatic."

"Harry, can you go get me something from the cafeteria?" Severus asked politely, and Harry's eyes narrowed.

"No," he snapped instantly, his body visibly tensing. "You just ate."

"Harry…"

"No, Severus," Harry threatened.

Severus smiled at Draco, whose eyes had gone wide, and gestured to the door. "I'm sorry, young Malfoy, I have to borrow your guardian here for a moment."

Draco nodded numbly, curious and slightly afraid of what Severus intended, and watched as a decidedly furious Harry Potter followed Sev out the door.

"What are you thinking!" he heard Harry snarl before Severus quickly shooed him away from the doorway. Draco tried to make himself relax into the bed, resigning to wait while Harry was away, but every ounce of contentment he had felt for those few minutes had fled him. Harry's defensive reaction could mean only a few things, and Draco was not pleased with the thought of any of them.

* * *

Harry wanted to deck his friend the moment they were out the door. "You will _not _tell him," he growled, his voice leaving no room for argument. "That is not your business nor is it your decision!"

Severus eyed him coolly. "I was not going to tell your young Malfoy anything, Harry, I am not so stupid as that. For me to tell your secret would ruin you both, and I have no intention of doing that. It is simply that the boy lying in that hospital bed is my godson, and I feel as though I should speak to him privately. I'm sorry that…"

"He is?" Harry interrupted, his ire quelled by Severus's assurances.

Sev stumbled over his apology, not accustomed to them as it was, and most definitely not accustomed to being interrupted during one of them. "Who is what?"

"He's your godson?"

The elder's lips twitched. "Yes. Lucius…" he spat the name like something vile "…and I were friends, once, a long time ago. Or perhaps you forgot that he was the reason I became a Death Eater?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at the mention of Draco's bastard of a father. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, I am truly sorry that my request for privacy so provoked you, you should know that I would never betray you in that manner. I simply was trying to be polite."

"So instead of explaining that to me, you decided to shoo me like a child?" Harry challenged, his stern accusation belied by the humor in his eyes.

"Yes, I did. I figured I would give you something to complain about while you were making yourself scarce. I know you do so love to complain."

Harry laughed, then, and any vestiges of annoyance between the two fled. "I'm sorry I overreacted," Harry said, bowing his head over his hands. "I trust you more than that. If I would have been thinking with my sanity then I would have known you would not be so childish or so cruel as to go blabbing my big dark secret around."

Severus curled his lip. "Indeed."


	17. and the past is unveiled

**_A/N: Sorry it's taking so long, I just moved away to college Wednesday and I don't have a laptop or anything yet at my new apartment! Hopefully I can get one SOON:-D thank you SO MUCH for your reviews. I'm more happy than you could know to hear that the technical aspects of my story are not lacking! That's very important to me. Thank you!_**

**_I hope you all enjoy!_**

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Draco tensed visibly as Severus returned to his room without Harry in tow. He couldn't help the way his pulse seemed to thunder in his veins, and thanked his stars that St. Mungo's had no use for those beeping monitors which told a patient's pulse, which would have immediately alerted Severus to his panicked state. He tried with all his might to resist shying away from his godfather, but Severus was too perceptive by half. He froze at the cornered look he could see in Draco's eyes. He had seen that look in the eyes of his victims when he had been a Death Eater, and his heart stuttered to see that look directed at him from his own godson. 

"Drake," he murmured as he stilled himself utterly. "I won't hurt you," he assured in a voice he was sure was as soothing as ever he managed. "You know I would never hurt you."

The youth forced his hands to unclench, but couldn't manage to chase that look from his eyes. "Of course, Uncle Sev. Why would you think I…" his voice petered out at the knowing look on Sev's face, and he dropped his head. "I'm sorry, Uncle," he whispered, ashamed.

Sev shook his head. "No, Drake, it is I who should apologize. I didn't mean to make a scene with Harry; he was simply afraid that I would tell you something he did not wish to tell you. It was only after we were in the hallway again that he remembered he told you already of his trouble with that rat Mike. He apologized to me for overreacting after I made it clear to him that I only wished to speak to you, as your godfather, in private, to see if you were truly as 'fine' as you claimed. I am sorry that his reaction worried you, and that we did not make ourselves more clear."

Draco wanted to believe it. He truly did. But there was something missing from Sev's recount. Harry had not minded in the least to speak to Draco about the legalities of Mike's situation, yet Sev claimed that the subject was what had so riled Harry. Draco strongly doubted the likelihood of that. However, the sincerity in his godfather's tone suggested that his side of the conversation was genuine.

Which left Draco with only the option that Harry had in fact not wanted Severus to reveal something, but it had nothing to do with Mike.

"It's alright, Uncle," he assured the elder man. "I'm sorry I was so suspicious. I should have trusted you more."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Severus waved away the apology. "But you have every reason to mistrust," he assured his godson.

"Please, sit down," Draco offered, and Sev was relieved to see the look sliding from his eyes.

Sev lowered himself into the chair closest to Draco and cocked his head. "So tell me honestly, son, how are you?"

Draco bit his lip. "Not as well as I'd wish, but Harry has really been here for me. I… I don't know what you want me to say. I am as fine as I can be, I suppose. There is nothing more to say."

Sev nodded and lowered his eyes. "Draco, if I had known…"

Draco let a soft smile cross his lips. "I know, Uncle, you would have ripped the House of Serenity from its foundations and come to my rescue."

The elder wizard sighed and shrank into his seat. "What did they do to you, Drake?"

Haunted silver eyes met and clashed with Sev's. "Nothing more than a Death Eater like myself deserved."

Sev spilled from the chair and fell to his knees by Draco's side. "Don't you ever," he commanded, and his hand found Draco's on the stiff sheets. "Draco Malfoy, you're a good man. You don't deserve any of that."

Draco tossed Severus's hand aside. "You know nothing," he spat. "The things I've done…"

"I know exactly the things you've done, remember?" Sev cut in. "I was there by your side. But no matter what that sick rat bastard made you do, your heart was never there, Draco. It was here, where mine was, with Harry Potter and the Order. You…"

"I've raped before, Severus! I've raped someone, on his orders! I did it and I didn't regret it, because I liked it. Alright? I… liked… it. _He_ thought that… that Zabini needed punishing, so I raped him. And now! Look at me! Just a cowering little bitch of their design!"

Severus was shaking his head rapidly back and forth. "No, Draco, you may have done it but you didn't enjoy it, not really. Not in the way you mean. You would never do that to an innocent, Draco. Blaise was a sick young man who had even sicker fantasies. You were following orders of…"

"It doesn't matter!" Draco hissed. "I did it, and it doesn't matter who or why, I forced myself on another human being, and I filled his ass with my seed, and _didn't even care_."

"How old were you?" Severus demanded coldly.

Draco shook his head. "It's doesn't…"

"How old?!"

"Fifteen," he bit out.

"Fifteen!" Severus gasped. "Jesus, Draco, you were just a boy! Your… you were raised in that kind of home, Draco. Just look at your father!"

"I am my father's son," Draco snarled. "I followed his…"

"If you even begin to think that you are anything like him then just you take one second and think about where you are. You're in the hospital being watched over by your _friend_ Harry Potter. Did you hear me, Draco? Your friend. Your father's ilk would have killed Potter on sight, not let him carry him to the hospital. And you can try all you want to convince me that you don't feel guilty about what you did to Blaise but the fact that it's still haunting you to this day _means something_. You're nothing like your father, Draco Malfoy! You didn't enjoy what you did to Blaise and you certainly don't enjoy the idea of a repeat performance." Draco's shudder of revulsion spoke for him. "So get yourself right off of that train of thought because no matter how much you try to convince _yourself_ that you deserved what happened to you, you'll never convince me, and you'll never convince Harry Potter!"

"How can you say I'm a good man, Severus? I let myself be… mounted… by Madam Drowry to avoid being sold. I… I _lent_ myself as a prostitute to avoid being their whore. I'm not strong like you. I let my fear make me into a cowering…"

"Fear is one of the strongest motivators on the planet, Draco. I became a Death Eater, fully and truly a Death Eater, because I was afraid of not being accepted. That is the most pathetic thing anyone could do! So if you look at me and you see a strong man, then think about what you're truly looking at. The only reason you can see strength in me is because I have accepted that part of me and moved past it. And yes, it took time. It took a hell of a lot of time! But that doesn't mean it's impossible. You've been through more in the last two months than many of Voldemort's victims ever went through. For me to be looking you in the eye right now, to be looking into the eyes of a young man who has been hurt, yes, but who has kept his morals intact, well, that means a whole fucking lot."

Draco couldn't help but feel comforted. Even knowing some of the terrible things his godfather had done, he respected the elder wizard. Severus, Draco knew, was a truly good man, as well as a powerful one, despite his indiscretions. Was is too much to hope that he, too, possessed some of the inner strength and goodness his godfather insisted he had?

"Draco, just try, for me? Try to understand that what happened was not your fault, any more than it was your choice or your punishment. You were imprisoned, Draco, by a horrible woman who entertained even more horrible men. Please don't hurt yourself over this. Please don't try to convince yourself that you are any less because of what happened, or that you were any less a man before they happened."

Draco dipped his head and let out a small smile. "I appreciate that, Sev," he responded, his version of acquiescence.

Before Harry was given the opportunity to answer there was a gentle knock. "I've been gone for too long," Harry groused through the door. "I'm getting antsy. I've been wandering the halls aimlessly for like twenty minutes."

Draco laughed through the tears that had pooled in his eyes. "Harry, it hasn't been anywhere near twenty minutes! But you can come in anyway," he allowed. Severus gathered his feet as Harry pushed in gratefully, carrying three ice-cold bottles of water.

"Whew!" Harry sighed dramatically. "I was afraid there'd be a Ridiculously Emotional Slytherin Hugging Ritual going on in here."

Severus gasped and widened his eyes at Draco. "You told the Gryffindork about the Slytherin Ritual?!"

"I never!" Draco played along seamlessly, horror written plainly on his face. "You know I wouldn't dare!"

Harry laughed at the pair. "Sure, I can just imagine you Slytherin brats creating some…"

He froze at the deadly serious glare they were both leveling at him.

"You tell no one," Severus growled.

"You know nothing," Draco confirmed.

"If you ever…" Severus began.

"…tell a soul…" Draco continued, his flatly furious voice melding instantly after Sev's as though from the same mouth.

"…what you know…"

"… you will die."

"Painfully."

It was all Harry could do not to shudder. "You guys are good at that," he admitted, and let out a nervous chuckle. When their glares did not melt as he had expected, he elaborated. "Too good at that. Stop it. You're freaking me out. If you freak me out you don't get your water," he threatened.

The pair snorted with laughter. "Well, we could try, anyway," Severus offered.

"I recommend you don't try again," Harry teased, though it came out more of a whimper, and the pair laughed as Harry overacted his fear. He handed the blond a bottle of water with a wink. "I don't have any knickers to change into!"

"Oh, sure, the big bad Slytherins," Draco teased, taking a sip of the non-toilet water. "I'm sure we inspire fear in the hearts of all."

Harry bit his lip. "Well, maybe not you, yet, but um… the people that scamper out of Sev's path aren't pretending. He's pretty much a badass."

Severus practically preened with the perceived compliment. "Why, thank you, Potter," he smirked, accepting the proffered water.

"Or at least people let him think that, because every time they cross him he kindly reminds them that I'm his business partner and I don't like people picking on my friends."

Draco laughed out loud at the delicate red Severus turned, the bottle of water halfway to his lips.

"You insolent little whelp!" Sev hissed.

Harry patted him on the head and grinned at Draco. "Only a few know he's just a big puddy tat." He paused and stage-whispered to Draco. "And I do mean that literally. His animagus is a kitty-cat!"

Sev snarled and Draco watched in amusement as a vein popped out on his forehead. "I… am… a… panther!" he snarled. "Which, I'll have you know, is a very regal and distinguished creature. Much more so than your silly Grim of a godfather and his Mickey and Bambi playmates!" He finished his sentence by splashing a large amount of the water onto Harry's face.

"Oh, neat!" Draco exclaimed, offering his assistance to this new game of Piss Of The Panther while Harry sputtered in laughter. "That vein pulses in time with his words!"

Severus snapped a glare to Draco. "You little twit," he sighed, defeated now that his godson had joined in.

"Insulting the dead!" Harry gasped, appalled, while he wiped his face with a conjured towel. "Though I'll agree with the Mickey part, though maybe Minnie with chest hair would be more appropriate, or, hell, Minnie was even too cool and manly for him. We'll just stick with Worm, though I hate to insult the poor creatures. But really, now. Bambi? That's like, a hot stripper name, Severus. Did you find my dad to be hot?" Suddenly he paled. "Or a stripper?"

Severus barked a laugh at the horror in Harry's face. "Yes, Harry, that's why James hated me so much; I found out he was really a stripper in his spare time. That's why he thought showing my knickers to everyone would embarrass me, because he hated doing it. But really, once we'd figured out a routine that worked for both of us, we got through our issues. He got to be the firefighter, I was the policeman."

The pair grimaced at the unwanted mental image that conjured in their young minds. Sev paused and couldn't imagine his luck when both Draco and Harry moved to take a gulp of their water.

"Such a _naughty_ fireman."

Harry choked and spewed; Draco remained much more Slytherin, forcing himself to simply swallow the water-- laugh and all-- very deliberately, but with a look of pain on his face which caused him to cough delicately once.

"Oh, disgusting," they both groaned, before Harry broke out into a grin.

Harry raised a hand for a high five with Sev. "Good timing!" he cheered. "You got us both drinking on that one!"

Severus sneered at the hovering hand, but Harry was undeterred. He simply kept his hand suspended, looking gleefully at Sev.

When, after a long pause, he still hadn't moved, Draco snorted. "Throw the poor pup a bone," he requested. "Otherwise he'll just stand there and eventually he'll get to pouting, and then will come the whining because his arm is getting sore from holding it up for that long. Then comes the crying." He shook his head sadly. "It's a vicious trend," he finished.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Actually, I think I'd like to see that."

Draco and Severus struck up a conversation on current events. Harry pouted. Eventually they recalled a particularly humorous time they had tortured Harry, and they laughed together. Harry whined that his arm hurt. Sev returned the topic to current events. Harry focused hard and eventually a tear glimmered down his cheek. Draco laughed and raised his hand for Sev to slap, which he did immediately. Harry bellowed in indignation and lowered the raised hand to slap it across the back of Sev's head.

"Now, Harry Potter," Draco began sagely, "you know how Hermione Granger felt all those times Sev wouldn't call on her."

The healers thought they would pass out in shock when they glanced into the room to see Severus Snape braying in laughter.


	18. to the public

-1Draco fell asleep for the first time in four days once he was safely wrapped in a content Harry's arms. He slept deeply and only stirred once, when Harry slid from beneath him, but fell back into slumber the instant Harry returned from the restroom.

He awoke a few hours later to the sound of the shutter of a camera and a flash of light. He ducked his head further into Harry's robes, not understanding for a moment the implications of the sound he'd heard.

"We're sorry, Mr. Potter, the Minister approved their presence. He said the media deserved to be informed on _all _of the recent events…"

Draco could feel Harry trembling in rage. "I'm not mad at you, Holly, dear. I'm mad at these prying, blood-sucking fiends who seem insistent on making their own lives a living hell. Or, if they would rather not be living, that can be arranged."

A pompous voice interrupted with a disgusting air of self-importance. "Mr. Potter, the public deserves to know the _facts_ of that which happened at the House of Serenity. And Draco here is the most compelling story we've got!"

Harry snarled. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Avery! Draco was assaulted by an unknown number of assailants, and I'm quite sure we haven't come close to catching all of the sleazy sons of bitches. As such, you simply cannot plaster his face and location all over the papers! His… admirers… might get ideas."

Avery sniffed importantly. "That's foolish," he insisted, and shook his head as though to dispel the very thought. "Who would be bold enough to come into Draco's room while the great Harry Potter stood vigilant over him?"

"One Michael Bolden," Dean snapped irritably. "For starters. And we certainly don't want a repetition of that event! So don't you even think about advertising where he is."

"Well," Avery snapped, somewhat quelled by the reminder of the very real threat Michael had presented. "It's obvious where Draco is being kept. It's the only wizarding…"

"You're an idiot," Ron snarled. "This is not a negotiation or a discussion, this is a demand. You _will not_ run a story on Draco, and you _will not_ put his face in the papers."

Draco was too nervous because of all the fuss being made over him to alert the room to the fact that he had woken up. He attempted to subtly peer over Harry's arm, but Avery seemed to be just out of his eye sight, for he could only see an incensed Dean and Ron, along with a healer, who Draco assumed to be Holly.

"But look how precious this is!" Avery insisted, and everyone present heard the contempt he attempted to hide within his words. "Harry Potter, the most eligible bachelor in all of the wizarding world, shacked up with a lone, brutalized death eat…"

Dean lunged out of Draco's line of sight, and Avery's words were abruptly cut off by a sharp smack of a fist hitting flesh. Draco tensed as he heard Avery crumble to the floor with a cry of pain, and shortly thereafter a plastic clatter erupted. Draco's obvious fear caused Harry's arms to tighten protectively as his head dipped to whisper "it's okay" into Draco's ear. Harry's furious eyes flew back to Avery with a fierce glare as the reporter whined about lawsuits. Draco risked another glance over Harry's arm and saw Dean stoop over and pick up the fallen camera as he strode back to the open door, where he had stood before. Ron was reclined against the doorway, laughing, as Holly grudgingly moved to assist Avery to his feet.

"I take my job very seriously," Dean explained coldly, and ripped the backing off the camera. "I will not have the safety of my charge compromised. Especially by bigoted sons of bitches like yourself who would sooner take the opportunity to smear Draco's name in the mud with reminders of his supposed loyalty to Voldemort than tell the truth. As far as I can tell," he snarled as he ripped the film from the camera and ignited both the film strip and the rather expensive camera on the tip of his wand. "You would rather tell the story about how pathetic your tiny little brain perceives the supposed death eater, Draco, to be rather than the strong, good individual he truly is. That young man has survived more than you'd like to hear, Avery McCullough, and more than I'm going to tell you. So your pansy, self-satisfied, delusional ass can get right the hell out of this hospital before we have to mark you as a threat to our charge's safety and kick your ass out the old-fashioned way!"

Harry was impressed with Dean's summary of the events, and felt Draco relaxing minutely in his grasp. He smiled inwardly, though his furious scowl remained firmly fixed for Avery's benefit. None of the room's other occupants had bothered to pay attention to whether Draco was conscious or not, and it warmed his heart to hear his friends defending Draco without the provocation of the blonde's wounded eyes.

For Draco, to hear Dean vehemently defend him as a strong individual was a band-aid pressed across his wounded soul. Though he wasn't going to be suddenly and miraculously cured, it helped. He smiled against Harry's bicep to hear the Golden Boy's friends ready to defend him, even come to blows for him.

Dean's furious bellowing had drowned out Avery's whimpering, but once Dean wound down, the whole room was able to hear Avery blubbering over his poor camera, which by then was a smoldering mass of melted plastic at Dean's feet.

"You're going to pay for that, you bastard," he snarled, his eyes bearing into Dean's for a moment.

Dean raised a foot and stamped on the plastic rubble. "Is that a threat, you silly little man?"

Draco could practically hear the blood draining from the other man's face.

Avery whimpered. "No, not a threat, not that way, I meant with money. You're going to have to replace the camera," he clarified feebly.

Dean grinned cruelly. "Whatever you say, you little bitch. Now get the fuck out of here."

Harry moved his shoulder to shield Draco from the reporter's prying eyes, and Draco could only catch a glimpse of red hair before his view was blocked. "He's not on display, McCullough. Stop ogling at him."

Avery snarled and stormed out the room, Holly the healer scuttling after him with one last apologetic glance at Harry.

"You're okay?" Harry questioned the blonde instantly, and Draco raised his head just slightly.

"I'm fine," he assured Harry, and Harry could feel Draco's smile forming against his robes. "That was actually kind of funny, after the shock of it wore off."

The remnants of tension Avery had ushered in seemed to drain away with Draco's words. Dean scooped up the camera's ruins and grinned. "I think I got a little carried away," he decided, and motioned toward the thing in his hand. "I'm sorry, sir," he stated as a formality. "It won't happen again."

"See to it that it does!" Harry insisted, and they chuckled.

Ron shoved away from the doorframe. "We'll see to it that the minister understands your… request… that media be kept away from the details of the situation. He'll not be pleased," he warned.

Harry sighed heavily. "That bastard is never pleased," he agreed. "Just tell him if he does anything that stupid again, I'll kill his dog or something. He doesn't have a dog, so he can't report me, but he'll get the idea that I'll make him miserable."

Draco and the others chuckled.

Seamus strode into the room, eyes wide. "Harry, the minister wishes to speak to you," he reported, and his childhood friends recognized the look on his face immediately. He was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. "He says that you and your men have disrespected his authority for the last time."

"Oh, so he's resigning, then?" Harry asked, his voice mockingly innocent.

His men burst out laughing, knowing full well that as long as Harry was their immediate commander, they were most likely going to be ruffling their minister's feathers with frightening efficiency and regularity. And they also knew that none of them were bothered in the least by that prospect.


	19. It is sometimes said

_**A/N: Thankies! I heart reviews! They keep me going, so please keep them coming! They inspire me, which is really good considering that I just started college lol.**_

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Dean volunteered to sit with Draco while Harry reported to his superior. Draco was silently pleased. He hadn't been able to chat much with Seamus when last he was elected to baby-sit, as he was busy pretending to be asleep, and for that reason found himself much more comfortable with Dean. Coupled with the fury with which Dean had defended him, he was feeling partial to his new friend. 

Draco smiled. "Thank you, Dean," he chirped the moment they were alone.

"Sure, Draco, no problem. I like getting paid to hang out with you," he grinned.

Draco chuckled. "No, not that. Well, that, too, but I meant about Avery. Thanks for what you said."

Understanding lit Dean's eyes. "Oh. My pleasure. I couldn't well let that snide son-of-a-bitch think he had something on you. Had to put him in his place for ya."

Draco's grin widened. "You're a good guy, Dean," he pointed out. "I appreciate that a lot."

Dean cocked his head and studied the blonde. "You think what happened to you makes you weak, don't you?" he guessed suddenly.

The fact that Draco's smile fell instantly as he paled was all the answer Dean needed.

"Draco," Dean chided, not allowing the blonde to speak. He bit his lip. "Do you look down on the girls for having been in that place?"

"Of course not!" Draco responded vehemently.

"Then why do you look down on yourself for having been in that place? They cooperated with their captors after a time in order to avoid being injured. That is all you tried to do. Nobody can blame you. Anyone would have done the same."

Draco truly hadn't thought of it so simply.

"But…"

Dean waited for a heartbeat for Draco to finish, then smiled when he couldn't.

"Atta boy," Dean grinned. They chatted for a while before Dean suddenly realized something and smiled. "Shoot, I only have a little bit of time, but what can I get you? I have a helper who can get you anything: food, desserts, drinks, anything. What'll it be?"

Draco squinted an eye shut in thought. "Pizza, definitely."

An instant later an all-too-familiar house elf popped into the room carrying a piping hot pepperoni pizza. "Young Master Malfoy," Dobby bowed. "Dinner is served."

Draco cocked his head at his father's ex-servant, who looked much healthier than the last time he had seen him. "You look good, Dobby," he complimented.

Dobby's eyes grew wide and afraid. "You is not eating Dobby, young master. You is eating the pizza."

Draco stuttered, shocked and guilty. "I… I know, Dobby, I meant…"

Dobby laughed and gave Dean a high five. Or, considering his height, a low five. "Got him!" the elf cheered before vanishing.

Draco blinked hard. Had the snarky little house elf just tricked him? After a moment he realized that yes, he had, and Draco laughed good-naturedly. "I think Potter's rubbing off on him," he pointed out needlessly as they dug into the food.

As though summoned, Harry stormed into the room and threw himself tiredly into one of the chairs. "He's not going to give me my job back," Harry snarled to Dean.

Dean stood up furiously. "You're fucking kidding me!" he screeched through a mouthful of pizza.

"No. Sit down." The request rolled off of his tongue automatically, and Dean obeyed instantly. Draco smiled at that. Even enraged, the men listened to Harry as though it was second nature. And, Draco supposed, so it was. "I'm not. He said that..." he raised his voice mockingly. "...my insubordination thus far is such that he couldn't excuse taking me back." He smirked and his voice returned to normal. "He said that shooing off the media he sent and nearly killing one of my men kind of put a damper on my résumé. I wasn't even sure whether I _wanted_ to go back, but his audacity just about pisses me off."

"We can fix this," Dean assured him. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not sure if I even want the job!" Harry reiterated, and snatched a piece of pizza out of the box, frustrated with his plight. "It just pisses me off that he thinks he can keep it from me!" He took a huge bite and chewed it thoughtfully. Draco, having no assurances to say to Harry, sat quietly and watched the byplay curiously, concern for Harry tugging at his heartstrings. This was all his fault. If he hadn't hidden behind Harry and gotten him in trouble, then the Minister would have to take him back.

Dean grinned deviously, setting his own pizza aside. "We can get it to where he'll beg you to take the job back, and you can turn him down flat, if you'd prefer that?"

Harry brightened, then hissed as a piece of piping pepperoni covered in cheese swung down and smacked onto his chin. He cursed and slurped the meat up before rubbing the scalded skin with his tongue. Then he remembered what Dean had said. "You think so?" he questioned, like a kid who had been told Christmas was cancelled but he could get revenge on Santa.

"How do you think little Fudgie-wedgie would like an entire detachment of his aurors to threaten to disband if you don't get offered the job?"

Harry laughed. "Well, he certainly wouldn't like that, but then you guys would take the hit when Fudge got pissed about me turning him down. He'd throw a bitch fit all over you guys."

Dean cocked a brow and smirked. "I'm sure we'd manage," he pointed out sarcastically.

Harry seemed to be seriously considering it for a moment as he chewed on the pizza. But then his expression set and he shook his head. "Nah, Dean, if you guys did that I'd have to take the job so that I could take his anger. I wouldn't want you guys to get in trouble over me."

Draco's eyes flicked to Dean and he couldn't help but laugh at the expression he saw on Dean's face. Obviously, Dean had other ideas. Harry looked up curiously to see what Draco found funny, and he followed his gaze to Dean just after Dean winked at Draco.

"What?" he asked Draco, his eyes going back to the blonde. Dean raised a finger to his lips, and the action brought Harry's gaze back to him. He scratched his nose, shrugging.

"Nothing," Draco assured Harry. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at either of you, I just think it's silly that Minister Fudge would try to keep you out of the business. You were _born _to be an auror. You'd think even that bumbling idiot would realize _that_."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Draco," he chirped, and motioned toward the pizza. "Sorry I interrupted your meal."

He glanced at the pizza crust he was holding.

"And stole it," he said, blushing.

The pair laughed. "It's okay, Dobby brought it, so it's as much yours as ours," Dean assured him.

Harry cocked his head. "Okay, since my house elf brought it, by 'it's as much yours as ours' you mean 'it's yours but we're the ones who thought of it, so we're eating it'?" He snapped half of the crust off and tossed it into his mouth to punctuate his statement.

Draco's smile flickered, but Dean simply laughed. "Yeah, something like that."

Harry nodded and winked at Draco. "Alright, that's fair," he agreed. "Oh, yeah, and uh… I'm sorry I didn't think to do this," he told Draco, motioning toward the food. "I should have known you would rather some real food than the shit they feed you here."

Draco shrugged. "It's alright."

"So any news around here?" Harry asked Dean.

"You were gone for like… three minutes."

"Yeah, I know, but it'd be just my luck that the doc would have some news for Draco just as soon as I leave."

Dean snorted. "You have a strange mind, Mister Potter."

"Why, Dean, I've never heard someone say something so true!"

Dean simply rolled his eyes.

"Well I mean really, it's silly that they haven't released him yet. He's in great shape! Look at him, he's smiling like a madman!"

Dean closed his eyes and bit his lips to hold himself back, but in the end couldn't resist. "I think it's the 'madman' part they're worried about," he teased.

Draco snorted. "Thanks a lot, Dean!" he groused, and placed his hand on his chest. "That hurt right here," he whimpered.

Dean rolled his eyes again. "Your heart isn't that high up," he retorted, and opened his mouth to say more.

"Children, play nice," Harry admonished.

Dean and Draco pouted.

"Well," Dean finally sighed, some time later. "It's getting late so I better get going. I'm going to get together a couple of the guys and we're going to brainstorm what to do to Fudgie-wedgie. I'll see you gents later."

Draco smiled as Dean shook his hand. "You be good," Dean scolded him jokingly, and Draco narrowed his eyes on him.

"Spoilsport," he snapped.

Dean laughed as he wandered out of the room.

Draco was near to bursting, desperate to ask Harry the question he himself had been wondering, and hardly waited until the door clicked closed to pipe up. "So why _are_ they keeping me here so long?"

Harry sighed, though he had been expecting that question. "They want to hold onto you until they can get a psychoanalyst in here. But apparently said shrink is being a bastard about answering his mail. I'll try to get them to hurry it up, I'm sure you want to be getting home."

Draco bit his lip, hesitant to correct Harry, knowing that Harry would feel guilty once he did.

"Ah," he finally said, and lowered his eyes before forcing them up to meet Harry's. "I haven't got a home," he pointed out gently. "My uh… father suspected where my loyalties rested, and so made sure I wouldn't get a thing from him."


	20. that the simple art of friendship can

_**A/N: Let me know if you don't like something that's going on. I most likely can't change it but I can keep it in mind for possible alteration. And please let me know as often as you can/want what you're thinking about the story :-) Thank you!**_

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Shock rippled through Harry's features and he wanted to punch himself for being so foolish. "I… I'm sorry, Draco, I didn't realize." 

"It's not your fault," Draco insisted. "You couldn't possibly have known."

Harry chewed his lip. "Is there… is there any place you can go?"

Draco hated having put that guilty, concerned look in Harry's eyes. "I… well… I mean, most of my… I didn't really have…" he wasn't sure how to force his thoughts into words. He had never had any real friends, and the only people he had ever known closely were those that had followed their fathers into Voldemort's service. He had few relatives who were still alive, and none of those had resisted the pull of the Dark Lord's ideas either. He was utterly alone as a soldier of Harry's side, and he was not safe in the homes of any who had escaped persecution.

"Yes, I'm sure I can find something," he said instead as he lowered his head. He simply couldn't impose even more on Harry. Already he had taken up so much time, not to mention effort, and now, he may well have cost Harry his job. How could he dream of asking more of him?

Harry studied him carefully, and noticed the way Draco's smile was forced and his eyes were shuttered. Draco was lying, he realized with certainty. Draco had nowhere to go. He just didn't want to let Harry know that. Harry was tempted to push the subject but refrained, fearing that if he was misreading the blond, he would only embarrass him by suggesting that he had nobody to turn to.

"Well let me know if you have any trouble," he settled on saying instead.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco smiled, and still it wasn't sincere, Harry noticed. "I will."

Draco added silently. 

Dean reappeared in the doorway with a smile on his face. "Harry, we've got some ideas, but we want your opinion on them," he interrupted, then turned to Draco. "Sorry if I'm interrupting," he added, though he didn't in fact look sorry. He was too excited to be sorry. He so loved messing with the Minister of magic. "But we'll have to steal Harry for a minute."

Harry shook his head. "Just…"

"Sev is here, said he wanted to talk to Draco anyway," Dean interrupted.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, but perked up when he realized Draco would probably be comfortable asking his godfather for help finding a place to stay. Severus had, as usual, impeccable timing. "Fine," Harry groused. "I'll come listen to your half-cocked ideas, Dean."

Dean exclaimed as Harry followed him out the door. "They are not half-cocked! They're half-_baked_."

Draco smiled as he heard Harry's chuckle as he followed his friend away.

Severus stepped into the room. "I'm sorry, Draco, if I'm intruding," he said, bowing slightly over his clasped hands.

"So formal!" Draco teased. "Have a seat."

"I had a question for you, and was hoping you could answer me honestly."

Draco cocked his head. "Perhaps," he responded warily.

Severus waved his hand as though to dispel the hesitation he heard. "Nothing serious, my boy. Actually it's more of a joke. I'm going to list three facts, and I want you to tell me your opinion on them. Alright?"

Draco seemed confused. "Alright, sure."

"Now here's the less fun part for you. You only have three choices, which you can only pick once for each set of statements, and you must tell the absolute truth in all instances."

"What sort of statements, Uncle?"

"Nothing so dramatic as what you're thinking, I assure you. I won't be questioning you about anything that has happened to you in the last two months. I just want to kind of get an idea of how your mind works."

"Don't tell me you're the psychoanalyst they hired to make sure I'm not crazy," Draco demanded suddenly. Severus winced and shook his head.

"Sorry, kiddo, I actually wish I were. I'm just being the weird uncle."

Draco laughed. "Alright, fine. I'll play along. What would you like to ask me?"

"Alright, first, the rules. You have one of each of the following choices: don't care, don't want, want. I will list three facts and you will pick each of those three choices and answer simply by listing the three choices in the order that the corresponding statements came. Let's try one. Statement number one: There are now only eight planets. Statement number two: Pluto was the one who got kicked off the list. Statement number three: Pluto is now considered a dwarf planet."

Draco squinted at his godfather. "That's a rather strange subject," he pointed out, trying not to laugh.

"I know, but bear with me."

"Uh... okay. So. Hit me again, I already forgot the order."

Sev repeated the options, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Hmn. Want, don't want, don't care," he decided.

It was Sev's turn to cock his head. "So, lemme get this straight, you want one of the planets to get kicked off, but not Pluto, and you don't care if it's a dwarf planet?"

"Yep," Draco agreed.

Sev bit his lip with a smile. "So which planet do you have it in for, and since when were you having a love affair with Pluto?"

Draco laughed. "Well, I'd rather never have to study Uranus anymore, because there's _always_ someone around who just has to snicker. Every. Single. Time you say its name. And I dunno, Pluto's cool. Just a little bitty guy, way out there, all cold and stuff. Kinda feel bad for the little guy."

Severus laughed, pleased with the amount of thought Draco had put into it, and couldn't help but see the logic in his answers.

"I guess so," he nodded.

"So what's next," Draco asked, significantly more comfortable with the game, though still unsure as to why Sev had bothered.

Just then, Harry came in, laughing hysterically. "Oh, man, those guys are ridiculous. They're in there planning a crime spree that only I can stop, so that the public will demand I be reinstated. But since they can't really break any laws, they're limited to childish pranks that any old wizard could deter. It's really quite stupid."

Dean, who had followed him into the room, laughing as well, punched him in the arm. "Hey, it's not stupid. It'd certainly be fun!"

Harry waved that thought away. "You're all stupid," he insisted, and hardly resisted when Dean barreled into him, dragging him to the floor. Draco sat up in shock at the sight, but Harry's and Dean's continued laughter from the floor reassured him.

Dean had Harry's arms pinned beneath his legs, and made a show of licking his own finger before holding it threateningly close to Harry's ear. "Admit my ideas were at least fun," he demanded, still laughing goofily. "Or I swear I'll do it!"

Harry actually giggled as he cringed away from Dean's slobbery finger. "Never!" he bellowed, and attempted to hide both his ears against his shoulders.

Dean snorted. "Who's ridiculous, now?" he growled, and plunged his hand closer.

"Okay!" Harry relented, and laughed ever harder. "Your ideas seemed a little fun. But the others, the others were just plain stupid!"

Dean had to agree with that.

Once the pair had finally settled down, they both took seats around Draco's bed.

"So what did you decide?" Draco asked Harry.

Harry snorted. "I'm just not going to take the job. With my luck if I let these bozos help me, they'll just make the minister keel over and die of frustration, and I'll then have to take his job. Which I most definitely do _not _want."


	21. heal more effectively than any spell

**_A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken so long:-(_**

* * *

The next day a dark-haired man dressed primly in a suit stopped by. He held a miniature briefcase in one hand, along with a tablet of paper and a pen. Draco knew instantly who he was, and cringed when he was introduced. Harry had spent the night crammed into a nearby chair, and as usual, neither of them had managed to sleep, though they both pretended they had, for the other's sake.

"I'm Healer Gulewicz," the man claimed, and held onto Draco's hand a moment longer than was necessary. Draco narrowed his eyes and jerked his hand away. Harry, seeing Draco's reaction, sat up cautiously, fully prepared to kick the man out at the slightest hint from his charge.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco replied, and forced his face to remain impassive. Something about the guy was creeping him out. He was sure he'd never seen the man before, but he seemed to have a self-satisfied smirk which just begged to be punched from his lips.

"Draco, it's a pleasure. So, have they been treating you well here?" he asked genially. Draco forced his head to nod up and down.

Gulewicz seemed undeterred by Draco's reticence. "Excellent! Well, they've spent the last few days, I'm sure, checking you out to make sure you're not injured. It's now my job to poke around your brain to make sure you're progressing properly. Now, I understand that you're not going to want to talk to me openly just yet…"

_Or at all,_ Draco added silently, and forced his lips not to pull into a sneer.

"…but I want you to know that you can tell me anything, I mean anything, and I won't tell a soul. In fact, legally, I can't."

"I know," Draco bit out. "I was raped, not brain-dead."

Healer Gulewicz rocked back on his heels and cocked his head, before turning to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, sir," he began, his voice barely containing his annoyance. "It seems your presence here is upsetting my patient. I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Like hell!" Harry snapped out coldly. "I'm staying right here."

"He's staying," Draco confirmed, and glared at the healer. "It's not him that's pissing me off."

Gulewicz sucked his teeth and raised the tablet, scribbling for a moment before turning his attention back to Draco. "Whatever you'd like, Mr. Malfoy," he agreed. "If you're more comfortable with Mr. Potter here, then so be it."

"I am. Now say your piece," Draco requested. He was sure his voice at least partially hid his disgust with the man, and still the little bastard scribble furiously for a few moments before once again raising his beady eyes to Draco's.

"Listen, Mr. Malfoy, I have to clear you before you can even think about getting out of here. Just you keep that in mind and cool your temper with me. Now we're going to do this right and proper and we're going to eliminate distractions. Alright?"

"Alright," Draco nearly snarled.

"So, Mr. Potter, please leave."

Draco cried out in indignation. "No! You just said he could stay!"

"But you're displaying a rather short temper, and I'd have to report that you're prone toward violence, and I don't want to do that. I have to know how you react to just the two of us, Draco, without interruptions or distractions."

"I never said you could use my first name," Draco snarled out, then snapped his gaze to Harry, questioning.

Harry shrugged, as if to say "it's up to you."

Draco sighed. "I'm fine, Harry," he decided. "And I'm sure you have things you should be doing right now. Thank you for sticking around."

Gulewicz sucked his teeth again and nodded, satisfied, while Harry stood to leave. "If you need me," Harry assured Draco. "I'll come."

Draco allowed his lips to twitch into a smile. "I'm sure of it," he agreed.

"So," Gulewicz began as the door clicked closed behind the "distraction." "How long have you and Harry been involved?"

Draco wasn't sure he'd heard right. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Gulewicz sucked his teeth once more, which was seriously starting to annoy Draco. "I'm sorry I had to kick him out, Draco, but I've seen one too many instances of a lover getting defensive, and in the end the experience is only more painful for all involved."

"Harry is _not_ my lover," Draco growled, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"But… I… in the Daily Prophet…"

Draco felt his skin go cold. "What was in the Daily Prophet?"

"A picture of you and Harry, here in this bed. The reporter said that after he took a picture with his primary camera, he tried to get a close-up with his secondary, at which point it was ripped from his hands and crushed by one of your guards. He explained that he couldn't…"

"Do you have a copy of the paper?" Draco interrupted.

The healer seemed confused, and dug into the little briefcase he'd brought with him. "Sure, I have one right…"

Draco ripped the paper from the healer's hands right as he heard a bellow of rage echo through the halls. Draco froze, but the picture caught his attention, and he reluctantly skimmed the article and caption. What Gulewicz said was true. The article never outright said it, but it hinted that Harry Potter had reacted violently in defense of his lover, Draco Malfoy.

Draco kicked off the blankets and clamored to his feet.

"Dean!" he called out, racing to the door, ignoring the fact that his gown gaped open behind him.

Ron raced to Draco's side. "What is it?" he asked somewhat irritably.

"Where's Harry?" Draco asked, undeterred.

Ron rolled his eyes, and Draco understood that it was nothing personal. He was simply frustrated with his volatile commander. "I don't know, that's what we're trying to find out! He'd just sat down to read the paper when he suddenly pitched a fit and stormed out of here."

Draco thrust the healer's copy of the paper into Ron's hands and poked the article with one finger frantically. "That son of a bitch had a picture in a different camera, and ran the story! Only we were wrong, he wasn't just trying to make me look like an idiot, he was trying to make me and Harry look like flaming homosexuals!"

Ron paled as he quickly read the article.

"Ron, Harry's probably gone to either the Minister's or the Daily Prophet. Do you have any idea how pissed off he's going to be because of this? You have to stop him!"

Ron nodded and scampered away to find the others.

Draco sagged against the doorframe and growled in frustration. One more thing Harry had to worry about, and once again, it was his fault.

"Well," Gulewicz chuckled. "You just made my job a whole lot easier."

Draco scarcely had time to gasp in a startled breath, let alone time to pull away, as the healer clasped a hand around his wrist and apparated away.

* * *

Harry raged into the Daily Prophet headquarters, his fury crackling out in front of him as he ripped his way through the cubicles, bellowing the name of the slimy son of a bitch who had printed the article. 

"Avery McCullough, get your ass out here, you worthless pig! We have to have a little chat!"

Ron and Dean arrived only moments behind him, and easily followed the line of strewn paperwork and crushed computers to where Harry was screaming his head off.

"Harry!" Ron snapped, and jerked Harry to a stop. "Be rational! You're going to get yourself arrested."

"No, I'm going to get that sleazy little son of a bitch arrested! He was ordered not to print that goddamned article, and he did it anyway! And not only that, but he made that bullshit up! That's against the fucking law!"

"Harry, actually it's not," Dean reasoned. "He never said anything outright. You have no legal standing here, Harry. Just calm down and think about it. Already the ministry is looking at you disapprovingly because of what happened with Mike. If you get arrested, the Minister will just have one more reason to make your life difficult. Don't let him have the satisfaction."

Harry growled but saw the logic in that. He glanced around and saw the damage he had already wrought.

"Shit," he groused, and waved his wand. The papers flew back to their rightful positions and the crashed computer monitors melded themselves.

One of the reporters finally found the courage to speak up. "Ah, Mr. Potter, sir, Avery took the day off," he explained, before ducking behind a filing cabinet in fear.

Ron smirked at the little man. "Probably because he knew you'd come looking for him," he told Harry, his voice laced with amusement.

Harry snorted and forced himself to calm down. "I'm sorry, people," he announced, and turned to his friends.

When he saw them both there, he froze. "Who's with Draco?" he snapped.

Ron and Dean exchanged glances. "Ah… the healer. Draco asked us to come make sure you didn't do anything stupid."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "That guy is a quack," he bit out. "Why did you leave Draco there alone?"

Dean tried to calm the once more irate man. "Harry, the guy's a healer, Draco is fine."

The panic in his heart, which he had initially thrown in with the fury of finding the article in print, roared to life, and once again, Harry felt the stifling pain of Draco's fear. "No, he's not!" He bit out, and apparated.

Ron and Dean followed immediately, their reflexes trained by years of experience as aurors. They appeared in the hallway to Draco's room and pushed in after Harry.

The room was empty.


	22. yet can hurt just the same

_**A/N: I'm such a dork. I'm pleased as a pickle that I'm chillin in the cafeteria of my college rapping out updates and able to post them using my wireless. I haven't been this high-tech in... ever. Seriously. I'm such a caveperson. I'm just utterly amazed that I am capable of such a feat. ;-) Anyways have fun pumpkins:-) Hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

"No," Harry whispered, and shook his head as though to rid it of the very possibility that Draco had been taken. "No, he's here. He has to be."

But what scared Harry the most was that he knew Draco was not, in fact, still in the hospital. He knew that Draco had been taken away, but the ache in his chest refused to acknowledge that. He raced into the hall and caught the arm of the nearest healer. "Draco, where, now!"

Her eyes grew wide with fear as Harry's words sunk in. "He should be in his room," she answered quickly, and pushed past the three men to see for herself.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she called, and knocked on the restroom door. Dean tore open the closet, while Ron trotted to the right down the hallway. Dean then took the left hall.

"Draco!" he called out, nearly frantic with worry. Harry hadn't said anything to help ease his fear, and his simple "no, he's not!" had terrified Dean. Harry, it seemed, had been alerted once more by his intuitive sense of danger, and once again, Draco was in jeopardy because they had left him unattended.

He could hear many of the healers and Ron taking up the call for their patient, but never did Harry's voice ring out. Dean turned back to find Harry standing utterly still in the frame of Draco's door, eyes closed, head bowed.

Dean reached a dead end in his hallway and raced back to Draco's room. "He's not here," he confirmed, just as Ron came from the other direction with the same news. The healers had called for a hospital-wide search, and Harry didn't have the heart to tell them that it was useless. He had sent his mind spiraling through the hallways on each floor of the hospital, with no results. Draco was not on the premises.

"Where could he have gone?" Ron asked, and some part of him refused to let go of the possibility that Draco had left on his own power. "He didn't seem to me like he wanted to get out of here too badly."

"Gulewicz took him," Harry snarled, and shook his head miserably. "I'm going to look for him. You assemble the team. All of it. I don't care what they're doing, I don't care what Fudge says, I don't care what you have to do. Find him. I'll deal with any problems you may encounter later. For now, just do what you have to."

The pair nodded their understanding. They were used to Harry's influence allowing certain loopholes through the bureaucratic red tape.

Harry vanished without another word.

Dean sighed and caught a passing healer. "Are any of the females who came in with him still here?"

"No, they were all released within a week."

Dean nodded and left her to her work. "As a precaution we'll have to let them all know what's happened," he pointed out to Ron, who agreed. "To make sure none of the others have been taken."

They apparated to their usual headquarters and Dean tossed a hand of floo powder into the grate. "Team Alpha, report to headquarters!" he bellowed, glad that the whole team had agreed to keep the floo network set up in case they were ever needed. They had, at the start of their career with Harry, created a way for him to summon his distinct teams, or the entire detachment, if need be, with only one call. In case some team members were not near their designated floo grates, they had formulated a way to ensure they heard the call. It was such that each time the call "team, report to headquarters" was evoked, a sort of warning called each of the members to their floo grates so that they could floo in. The apparation wards prevented direct apparation.

Within moments Team Alpha, the first twelve men to join Harry's ranks, was assembled.

"Draco's been taken," Ron announced instantly, and a murmur of anger rippled through the crowd. "The last person seen with him was…"

Harry appeared, a fierce frown on his face. "He's been dead for at least twelve hours," he announced.

"What!" the newcomers screeched, misunderstanding Harry's announcement and assuming he meant Draco.

"The healer we thought took Draco," Harry responded, realizing he hadn't prefaced his announcement with an explanation. "A psychoanalyst named Gulewicz. I went to his home first. I found him dead. He couldn't have taken Draco. It must have been polyjuice."

Dean swore furiously, along with half the other gathered wizards.

"Now what?" Ron questioned, bringing the group's attention back to Harry. "Where do we look now?"

"I don't know," Harry snarled, and instantly set out a half dozen tasks for his men. He sectioned them into pairs and sent them on their way.

"Dean and Ron will be here to be a base for all information; if you find anything, anything at all, come back here _immediately _and inform them. Check in often to be sure you're still on track. I'll be hunting. Good luck. Be safe."

The men popped away to their various assignments and Dean and Ron settled in to search in a more hands-off fashion. They would focus their attention on scanning the areas nearby for Draco's magical signature, slowly expanding their field of focus until they could no longer stretch their minds.

Harry returned to the House of Serenity.


	23. when the memories that haunt you

_**A/N: Hey can I ask a favor? Can everyone who's reading this story just leave me a review, it can be anon or whatever, saying something, anything, even just like "me"? I'm curious as to how many people are reading. So I'm asking... "Who all is out there?" I don't mind if you never review again it's just one of those things... thank you much, and keep in mind that of course I don't mind if you say more hint lol. Please say as much as often as you like. :-P I love reviews, o'course. And I'm sorry there was such a lull in action. I'll see what I can do about picking it up a bit...**_

* * *

He stood in the room they had kept Draco, his heart aching. He saw everywhere signs of the torture they had inflicted on his precious Draco. Reliving the stark reality of it was hell for him. He couldn't shake the memory of Draco, bleeding and broken, crawling to him across the filthy floor. 

Not many wizards had ever had the power to be able to focus much on it, but Harry had discovered something unique about the rooms where great pain was inflicted on a wizard or some other creature of power. The saying "if these walls could talk" was actually based on some reality. Because of the fact that many wizards lost control of their power during times of great anguish, their magic had a tendency to sometimes -- not always, Harry had found, but a good deal more often than not -- leave an impression of itself behind. In some instances, it was as simple as the scent of their skin. Other times it was an echo of their name. Still others were as extensive as their emotions during the moment of pain. In the cases of Voldemort's victims, it was often possible to get an image of the attacker. Though not permissible in court because the image existed solely in Harry's mind, Harry still valued those opportunities, because it was then much simpler to find evidence to nail down the perpetrator rather than a perpetrator who fit the evidence.

He had learned also that the impressions could not mislead him. Once, a death eater had swallowed polyjuice in order to throw the victim and pursuers off. But the magical impression had not been fooled. It was not a matter of what the victim saw or heard, Harry reasoned, but what the essence of magic could sense.

Harry had found that the amount of impression left behind hinged on two circumstances: the amount of pain endured, and the amount of power a wizard possessed.

Draco was a very powerful wizard, Harry had come to find. And he had endured quite a bit of pain.

There should be quite an impression, Harry reasoned.

The impressions left took a lot of effort and power to sense, which is why many wizards were unable to take advantage of the possibilities the impressions offered. It wasn't as though any wizard walking into the room could sense it. No, instead, they had to be looking specifically for the impression itself, with their shields thrown wide, to even get the first hint of it.

In the past, when he had done this as a ministry official, he had always had to throw himself completely open, sweeping his power slowly and meticulously around the room, like a net unfurled to catch any errant impressions. And even then, with his considerable power extended, the impression first came to him like a whisper, which he then focused on and fed like a scared puppy until it was less timid and approached him more solidly. Only then could he get a strong sense of the reality of the situation.

Which is why, the moment Harry centered himself against the memories simply seeing the room evoked, he opened his power fully.

And was assaulted with hundreds of images, sounds, scents, thoughts, and agonies.

He slammed his magic closed around himself, tugging it closed like a heavy cloak and shuddering even wrapped in its solid warmth. He couldn't help the gasp that tore itself out his throat, or the sob that latched onto it.

He had never considered that how well he knew the victim would influence how well he could sense the impression and how strong the impression was, but suddenly he realized how much sense that made. He had subconsciously called for Draco's magical signature, and instead of a timid puppy who'd been kicked by its previous and only owner, Draco's magic had come like a well-trained dog to its master. And as much power as he had poured into his desire to find the impression… well, it seemed the dog had sensed its master's urgency and come rather rapidly.

Harry rolled himself onto his back and only then realized he'd fallen to his knees. He choked on the very air in the room.

Suddenly, guilt assailed him as he began to feel as though he were prying into Draco's privacy, his soul. Draco had left so much of his experiences behind, in this horrid room, that it was like flinging open Draco's mind and traipsing in. Yet Harry had no other options. He hated betraying Draco's privacy so thoroughly, but knew no other way to speed the process up. If he could find an impression of someone, anyone, that stood out to him, that he recognized, then he could find Draco before anything happened.

Or so he hoped.

It seemed that the dog that was the impressions was scratching at his mind's protecting cloak as though searching the pockets for a treat for obeying so well.

Harry had to focus hard to block the pain out. He imagined striking it on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper and telling it no. Bad doggie, don't torture me with those things. The impressions faded, chastened, and Harry forced himself to his knees. He didn't have time to wallow in self-pity. Draco needed him now.

Slowly he tugged back the hood of the cloak he had imagined closing off those impressions and called to them again, this time careful to not pour all of his power into it. They came, more hesitantly, and he tugged them slowly, carefully, into his mind. Good doggie, now roll over.

The sight and feeling of Draco screaming ripped through his mind. It didn't take long for Harry to realize that he, too, was screaming. He saw Draco's attackers, clawing and scratching and striking. He felt those hands clawing at him, scratching him, striking him. He wanted to stop it, turn it off, make it go away forever, but knew that this was his only chance to find who else could have tried to attack Draco.

He had never had the need to try to manipulate or filter out impressions before. They had always been so faint and rarely ever did more than one linger, so he had only to focus on them to understand them. But the endless sea of impressions bullying their way into his mind confused him more than clarified things, hurt him more than helped him. He tried to slow them, but they had been out in the cold for too long, and wanted a warm place to sleep. Draco's most painful memories from his time in the House of Serenity made sure Harry understood the absurdity of the name of the home.

He writhed on his back, arching and screaming with the assault of memories, not sure when he had fallen, not sure when he had begun screaming, not sure when he'd drawn blood from his own skin. He was only sure of what he was seeing, feeling, hearing.

He tasted cum on his tongue and felt fingernails score his flesh. He was overwhelmed with the ever-present scent of violent sex and agony.

Finally, the feelings stopped. The physical pain, the most powerful impressions, had all slammed through Harry mercilessly, leaving behind dozens upon dozens of floating faces. Images laughing, screaming, gasping. Faces snarling, biting, moaning. The faces of the men Draco catered to hovered about the room as though waiting to be called upon, and slowly Harry was able to focus through the pain still sending tremors through his body enough to see them clearly.

The varying intensity and clarity of the impressions implied that some of them Draco barely remembered, while others were ever on his mind. The dimmest were hardly discernable, and when Harry looked upon them, he felt no fear. The brightest were the ones which caused him to convulse in agony.

The most prominent was Derek, one of Haiman's goons. Only slightly less bright was Haiman, along with his other three cronies. Harry raked his eyes across the images, and found that whenever he focused on one image, he could remember everything of note about that individual.

He focused on a rat-faced image and felt hot, rank breath fan across his lips while the ratman drove himself deeply into Harry's ass.

_No_, Harry forced himself to think. _Not me. Draco. These are Draco's memories, not yours._

The pain associated with the memory was intense, but the fear was not. The ratman was not a regular customer, nor was he particularly violent. He had only been so painful to endure because he had come after a more violent customer, and had not bothered to heal Draco before satisfying himself.

Harry dragged his eyes to another. This one had ordered that Draco be healed before he would even touch him. He had used lubricant and had kissed Draco softly on the lips before leaving.

Several others were of a similar nature. They were not there to injure Draco, only for a male prostitute they could enjoy. But what made Harry burn was the immense number who didn't care how badly they hurt the whore. And the startling number who _aimed _to hurt him.

His eyes flicked to another, and another. This one squeaked when he came. This one had sucked Draco off before fucking him. This one had licked his lips annoyingly often. That one had cried. That one had laughed.

Harry wanted to scream in frustration. He didn't have time for this. None of these faces were familiar, and none of them called to him as an immediate threat. He filed away every fact about every face he could absorb, and still nothing came to mind. He distinctly avoided the images of Haiman and his goons, as well as a few of the others who emanated violence and pain. If he could avoid reliving that, he would. The initial experience with the physical pain had been quite enough to convince him that he did not want to put him through that unnecessarily.

So his eyes flicked over the wall of faces. After he had digested them, they shimmered out of view, fading back into the walls to be summoned by the next wizard who called.

Suddenly he froze. His eyes had fallen upon an image that, while not particularly violent nor painful, was terrifying nonetheless. He forced his mind to accept the image and along with it the pain, and felt himself be pulled to the beginning of Draco's introduction to this one.

Harry couldn't see his face at first. He was blindfolded still from the previous customer, and could only feel long skinny fingers scratching across his skin and the scratchy ropes binding him on his back to the bedposts.

"Sooo beautiful," a vaguely familiar voice purred. "You're so beautiful, my little whore." The initial insertion hurt, because of the previous customer, but was bearable. "I could just keep you," he continued, rambling while he fucked his bruised and bleeding victim.

Harry fought to contain his vomit, wondering whether it was truly his stomach or Draco's rebelling.

The force of the attacker's movements caused the blindfold to slip down slightly, enough to see a mop of red hair.

"Nothing to say, my sweet?"

Draco had long since given up begging.

Lips descending to crush against his. Bile rose and fought against his control. Yet he had been in the care of these men too long to lose it while in their presence. He was always punished severely for vomiting on them.

A tongue forced its way into his mouth, and he resisted the urge to bite down on it. That slimy appendage explored his mouth eagerly.

"Come, come, dear, can't you at least try? _I'm _trying to be nice here. You don't want me to not be nice."

Draco reluctantly obeyed, forcing as much of a response as he could from his lips and tongue. The redhead seemed content.

"What's your name?" the redhead asked at length.

Draco didn't answer. He was once again focusing on keeping his vomit down.

The redhead froze. "Tell me your name."

"D… Draco Malfoy," he rasped out carefully.

"Has anyone ever told you how truly beautiful you are, Draco Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head.

"Speak to me, Draco."

"No," Draco gagged, and the redhead once again dropped his mouth atop Draco's.

"You are. I'll bet your eyes are just as beautiful as the rest of you. Look at you, beaten and bruised and malnourished, and still stunning. I have to see your eyes. May I see your eyes, Draco?"

Draco didn't bother to answer.

"You see, it's polite to ask rather than assume. Because then, you can at least feel like you have some kind of control over what's happening to you, even if you don't really. So I'll ask again, and this time you'll answer. May I see your eyes, Draco?"

Draco bit his lip. "Yes," he rasped, and felt the blindfold removed. But still all he could see was red hair. The redhead was once again kissing him, his tongue an avid spelunker.

Then the redhead moved away again, and smiled.

"Thank you. Now, you see, was that so bad, Draco?" Avery McCullough asked sweetly.

Draco agreed that it was not while Harry nearly had a panic attack. That stupid son of a bitch reporter had come into the hospital room while he was there, just to try to fuck with Draco. If Harry hadn't tried so hard to block Draco from the cameras, Draco would have seen Avery and most likely panicked, but there was no way to prove anything. Avery would have simply insisted that Draco really was as insane as they all thought he was down at the paper. And that sick son of a bitch would have walked out of the hospital, having crumbled Draco's security and gotten away scot-free. He had even had the balls to laugh at Harry's tight security.

"_Who would be bold enough to come into Draco's room while the great Harry Potter stood vigilant over him?"_

Dean had used Mike as an example, when in reality Avery had been referring to himself.

The son of a _bitch_!

"One day, Draco Malfoy," Avery was telling his victim. "I'm going to come break you out of here. I've got a nice little house you can come to. And it'll be just the two of us. Nobody to hold us back. All the time in the world. I've got this wonderful collection of knives we could play with, as well as a number of whips. I could see how long you can keep yourself from speaking to me with a whip lashing across your beautiful flesh. I'll bet you'll talk to me if I cut your cute little belly open, Draco. Don't you think? And if not, I can simply cut your fucking tongue out, and then you'll have an excuse not to talk to me."

Draco's fear had skyrocketed as the deranged reporter spoke. Harry sensed his knowledge that if this dog-faced motherfucker took him away, nobody would ever find him, and nobody would ever stop the redhead from doing whatever he wanted. Torture was best suffered over hours, Draco knew, and this scrawny sonofabitch was thinking just that. Torture, through and through. For as long as he so desired, he could and would torture Draco.

If he found a way to get Draco away from Drowry.

Harry snapped back to the present. The faces were no longer floating in front of him, and he realized slowly why. They had all entered him. He flicked through the memories of each of the bastards who had hurt his Draco, and could recall every word and touch they inflicted on him.

Sickened, he slammed the door on those memories. He could deal with them later. But he simply didn't have time for them.

Not yet, anyway.

He had a reporter to eviscerate.

* * *

**_A/N: Remember: _**

**_This is me asking "Who all is out there?"_**


	24. are brought into the light

_**A/N: Please know that my question still stands... if you haven't gotten a chance to let yourself be counted on the last chapter please please do so now, it only takes a moment and I can get a better idea of what I'm working with, for future reference. Thank you so much to those who have already dropped me a line, I really appreciate you taking the time to do so, especially since a few of you review regularly. I really really appreciate your efforts, please keep it up! Here's another chappie even though I WAS going to hold off until I got a satisfactory count ;-). I'll not be mean though, and update when I can. Thank you again!**_

**_Oh! And something I wanted to mention... _**

**_Taylor: So that's a nice way of saying "your story has gotten boring" isn't it? Sorry about that, I'll try not to lag again! It's just that so much is in my mind for these two in this story! _**

**_For all yall: let me know when you get bored so that I can do something to spice it up!_**

* * *

He apparated back to headquarters to find Dean and Ron just gearing up again after having been interrupted by someone seeking progress. They had had none to offer. 

Harry lowered himself carefully to one of the couches, his stomach rolling dangerously, and seemed to collapse into it.

"Can you get me a glass of water?" he asked Dean, who scampered to comply. He sipped it carefully, though holding the glass was difficult, and it helped. It cooled his raging nausea and allowed him to think clearly for a time.

"Get everyone to report back, we know who we're looking for." Harry found himself breathless and hated himself for his weakness. He forced his voice not to betray the pain he still couldn't quite contain fully, which kept flitting through his mind and across his nerve endings. "We know who killed the good healer and took Draco."

Ron gave him shocked eyes but obeyed. Within seconds the floo was in constant use as the team lined up to be allowed in.

"Avery McCullough," Harry announced weakly. "We're looking for Avery McCullough."

Dean nearly exploded with fury. "Are you fucking _kidding me_?!" he raged. "That sleazy son of a bitch was right under our noses!"

"And pointed it out to us," Harry reminded him, not bothering to keep his voice strong any longer. "After all, who could be so bold as to parade around Draco with _me_ protecting him?"

Dean and Ron seemed to become even more furious with that, having forgotten his strange observations.

"I'm gonna kill him," Ron snarled, and paced like a tiger caged. "That creepy little fucker!"

"Harry," Dean questioned softly. "Are you alright?"

Harry refocused his eyes with some effort.

"How did you find this out?" Dean's voice came through a heavy haze.

Harry's eyes crossed and he shook his head to clear it once more. "Draco's impressions," he answered at length. "They were… very strong. There were impressions of all of them. Everything."

"And you called that into you?" Dean pressed.

Harry wanted to sob. He hesitated in answering, knowing that his answer would come out as just that: a sob. So he waited until he had control before he spoke. "Yes," he finally uttered. The word came out a moan.

"Oh, shit," Dean murmured, and felt Harry's forehead for fever. "Shit, Harry, that's too much," he chided, and removed the water from Harry's hand when it seemed as though it was going to fall out instead. He motioned to Ron to help him raise Harry more comfortably onto the couch, but Harry pushed him away insistently. "No. No time. Got to find Draco."

"The men are on it," Dean assured him, and only then did Harry realize his team had again departed to work on the issue at hand. "You rest. You'll be useless if you don't rest," Dean insisted, pushing Harry firmly onto the couch.

The memories in Harry's mind did not like someone holding him down by the shoulders. Panic welled in him, and he lashed out before jolting upright and vomiting onto his carpet.

His eyes shot to where Dean had crumbled. "Shit!" Harry exclaimed, coming to himself once more. "Dean! I'm sorry! I just…"

Dean groaned and held his temple. "Shit, Harry. Ouch, much?"

Ron wiggled his wand to rid the carpet of the vomit.

"I'm sorry, Dean, but the memories are…" Harry could hardly find the strength to speak.

"I get it. It was stupid of me to hold you down when you've just relived someone's memories of being raped. Don't apologize, it was my bad."

Harry cringed and helped Dean up. The memories recoiled in fear, as though Harry could lash out at them for causing him to hurt his friend. He slammed a door closed on them and focused on the present, his present.

"No, Dean. I should have known better than to come here before I had control of them."

Dean smiled. "Feeling better?" he observed.

Harry's lips twitched. "When I saw what they'd made me do I bitch-slapped them and threw them in a closet with all my other skeletons," he replied. Dean snorted. "But I'm still really weak," Harry groused.

Ron was hovering worriedly, unsure of how to help.

"So do either of you remember how Avery felt? If I try to focus on him, the memories come back."

The pair both shook their heads. "No, we've been trying to focus on Draco but can't get anything. We didn't bother to take a second look at Avery when we were near him, we couldn't possibly seek him out in this mess."

Harry sighed. "Well then, stand back, I may have to unleash some of the memories to find them, and don't want to hit either of you."

Dean clutched his arm. "Harry, can you do this?" he asked earnestly.

Harry dropped his head. "I have to. He wants to torture Draco," he replied, some of the tears he had been repressing seeping from his eyes. "I have to get him back."

Dean shuffled away and nodded. "Alright. Call the team again, Ron."

Harry cocked a brow. "What do you mean?"

"We should connect for this one," Dean reasoned. "So that we can help you channel the feeling. Otherwise you may lose control and we'll be back at square one and you'll be in pain again, for nothing. If we all connect, then we can lend you our power."

Harry nodded, wondering why he hadn't thought of it, before suddenly it wasn't necessary.

Avery was calling for him.

Harry jolted upright. The memories of Avery were seeping into his mind prematurely. He felt his team begin to arrive, but couldn't truly focus on them. Avery was calling him, wanting him to come see what a beautiful piece of work he had made Draco into. Harry recoiled in horror at the idea, but knew that he had no choice. He hoped that he was able to say something to his team before vanishing, because he tried desperately in those few moments to say "grab on," but once he was solid again, nobody had a hand on him. He was utterly alone.

The sight that greeted him was dizzying. Draco, stripped of his clothing, was horizontally suspended in midair, bound by magical ropes. The redhead was bent over Draco, his lips closed around Draco and his head pumping up and down lazily. Tears of humiliation and fury slithered down Draco's cheeks. By all appearances, Avery had not yet hurt him, but Harry understood that being unable to resist the bastard's control was infuriating for the proud blond.

"No!" Draco screamed when he caught sight of Harry, kneeling and weak, so close to the deranged redhead.

Avery pulled away from Draco with a smile. "Harry, how nice of you to join me. I could tell the moment I saw you holding Draco, you want nothing more than to be in my position right now."

"No," Harry whispered, and hated that his voice was hardly a weak rasp. The search for and resultant torture with the impressions had wrung him nearly dry. He could hardly force his lungs to continue to expand. "You're wrong," he forced himself to say.

"You're just as much infatuated with Draco as I am, Potter. Don't try to deny it."

"No," Harry insisted, but his voice was fast losing strength. "I'm not… like… you. You're… sick."

Avery laughed. "By the generally accepted definition of the word, yes, I suppose I am. But if I am, then you've caught the same disease."

Harry forced his head from side to side, struggling against the memories pummeling him. "No. Draco's… my… friend." The last word was hardly a puff of air, not audible in the least, and Avery laughed gleefully.

"What's that? Draco is yours? Possessive already, Potter? But you haven't even fucked him yet. I have. So I have more claim on him than you do."

"Friend!" Harry forced out with as much strength of will he could muster. "Draco is… my… _friend_!"

Avery strode over to him and closed his fingers around Harry's throat. Harry could hardly find the energy to wrap his fingers around Avery's wrist, let alone pull him away. Harry could only whimper as Avery dragged him to his feet by the throat. He could hear Draco screaming and thrashing, but only faintly.

"You know," Avery purred. "You're a beautiful specimen, as well. I think Draco would be quite upset to see me fuck you, since he for some reason feels for you, despite the fact that you're just like me."

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**_A/N: I promise I'll stop pestering you soon... Please leave me a brief review, anon if you want! Thank you!_**


	25. and turned against those you love

_**A/N: Hey this may be weird or something, I'm not sure, but somebody mentioned having to load the page every day to see whether I had updated, and I feel terrible because my updating has been irregular at best. With classes as they have been I can never guarantee an update. So I offer thus: (if it's not weird of me to do so) would anyone like me to send them an email when I update, so that you don't have to keep checking in? This story may get pretty lengthy and I'd hate for you to be checking daily for the next month (because it will probably be another month at least until I finish this bad boy off, even with regular updates...) If not, if that's weird, just let me know. But for those who don't have accounts I think it may be helpful, and I don't mind. Just let me know. Anyway... **_

**_Thank you all for your reviews:-D I am very very happy. _**

**_On with the story!_**

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"He's nothing like you, you fucking bastard!" Draco screamed, and tears poured down his cheeks. "He's not a deranged basket case! He's a good man. Don't you dare call him anything but!" 

Avery used his free hand to rip open Harry's t-shirt. Harry attempted to bat his hands away but his body felt as though he were stuck in a vat of thick syrup. His movements were slow and lethargic. By the time his hand slapped the area he was aiming for, Avery's hand had long since moved.

Harry wasn't quite sure how Avery managed to tug his jeans off him. He didn't even realized that he had been disrobed until he was thrown to his hands and knees and his hand landed on his crumpled jeans. He felt Avery tugging at the waistband of his boxers, but his mind refused to wrap around the situation. He fought against the presence in his mind to gather the energy and power to resist, or at least to free Draco.

"Leave him alone!" Draco begged frantically, and thrashed against the magic binding him.

Harry didn't understand. He could feel Avery's presence like an intruder in his mind, a thick weight pressing against his mental shields. He realized that Avery had subconsciously reached out to his own magical signature, which was wrapped within Harry's memories, and was attempting to prowl Harry's mind.

"He just wants to fuck you, Draco! He's just like every other bastard who paid Drowry, but he's too cheap to pay so he'll simply wait until you come to him."

"You're wrong!"

"Am I? How do you know?"

"I know Harry, he's nothing like you!"

"He's just another fucking customer, you just don't know it yet!"

"No," Harry managed. His mind had caught up halfway to the conversation going on around him. Horror at the redhead's words enraged him. He had thought the same thing, so recently, but since his experience with the room's impressions, he understood the difference between himself and those others. Even the ones who had not intended to hurt Draco had shredded his pride and self-worth. Even in their version of taking pity on him and ensuring he enjoy their attention, they were destroying him. To have someone uninvited, unwanted, unloved, control him so completely-- forcing him to enjoy being raped-- had shattered him just as fully as the ones who hurt him. Because by forcing him to enjoy it they had made him an accomplice in his own defilement, his own destruction.

"He's trying to shut me up so you don't learn the truth, but he's just like me. Just another customer."

Draco shook his head continuously. "You're wrong," he insisted. "You're wrong, he's a good man."

Harry felt his fury rising. Hot and painful, it rose within him like a wave of acid. It burned where it touched; his fingertips tingled and his elbows shook. His mind was suddenly cemented on one idea: _feed the fury. Feed it and let it go and let it consume you, so that in consuming you it chases away the pain, the humiliation, the memories. Only the fury can save Draco. Let it fill you up like a cup, and when it brims over, save your Draco. You'll only have one chance, you'll only get one dose, and it'll never come again. You can either apparate away, or you can break those binds on Draco. _

Harry let Avery's lies ring in his brain ceaselessly. He let his eyes look at Draco, fighting against a power he could have no hope of breaking, desperate to save Harry from this tormenter they now shared, desperate to save his savior's purity.

"Leave him be!" Draco begged.

Avery cackled and tortured Draco with the threat of claiming Harry, pressing himself against Harry's opening and bumping his hips.

Harry felt a searing jolt of pain as Avery entered him with one violent thrust. He sucked a gasp of pain through his teeth. Draco's screams echoed through the room as he thrashed ever harder, furious with himself, furious with Avery. He had, once again, caused Harry pain, and this time it was the worst of all. Draco's tears redoubled and he dissolved in agony.

The sight of Draco's misery sent Harry's mental cup of fury spilling over.

He pictured that cup as one of acid, and clutched it tightly to himself as it spilled across him. He felt Avery beginning to move, but paid him no mind. He flung that cup of acid, that cup of fury and power and his will, across the room to Draco, bending that nearly physical substance into a blade that sliced through the magic binding Draco.

"Run, Draco!" he screamed as the magical ropes slithered away from his magic as though from a flame.

Draco fell in a heap to the ground.

Avery screamed in rage.

Harry collapsed, his magic spent.

He could do little more than watch as Draco gained his feet. Avery had begun to move away, but not fast enough. Fury fueled the blonde now, and desperation to prevent Harry from going through what he had made his reflexes lightening-quick. He did a half flip, half roll across the room to where Avery had thrown his wand, and as he came to his feet a pair of loose slacks came into existence over his form with no more effort or time spent than a blink. He cracked his wand like a whip, and the lash of power that flared toward Avery sent the redhead stumbling. Draco was halfway across the room before the redhead even had time to fall, and as Avery crumbled to his back, his head snapping back to connect with the floor beneath him, Draco was upon him.

His wand, though still clutched tightly within his fist, was forgotten as he lashed out physically against Avery. His clenched fists connected solidly and repeatedly against his tormentor's face, and still he growled and spit. Avery retaliated suddenly, sending the blond spilling head over heals, and Draco was forced to tuck himself into a roll to prevent an awkward landing, but sprang to his feet again within moments.

He lashed out, catching Avery's temple in a powerful roundhouse that staggered him back. Draco pressed forward, enraged, and twisted his body into a complex assault he had learned as a death eater. He sent Avery stumbling, confused. Draco had never struggled against him before, but now he fighting back with the ferocity of a caged tiger and the skill of a trained assassin.

Harry's eyes were scarcely able to follow the path the pair had taken, let alone the fury-charged attacks Draco was throwing. His vision blurred and he nearly lost consciousness. But Draco was not yet safe, and that fact alone kept him alert to the general world around him.

Harry felt a slow ease of his power, then. He felt a small tingle as someone tugged along it, and knew that his men had managed to find him. They would be here within seconds.

Avery had no chance against the furious blonde. He had never seen such ferocity and power contained within each and every strike. It took him quite some time to realize his mistake: Draco had not been spurred to defend himself, but the moment Harry had been hurt, Draco had been provoked beyond rational thought.

The team arrived, hovering around Harry. A few pair of hands helped him to stand while someone spelled some clothes onto his body. He grunted in thanks, but his eyes were glued to the blonde.

Harry had never seen such perfect form. The blonde performed each maneuver as though it were an art form, and though he was beyond fury he never let it slow or sully his strikes. His powerful legs lashed against the reporter as often as his fists, and he moved with the fluidity of water. His jaw was set, his eyes cold, and his control perfect. Though Avery was but a reporter he had obviously studied some form of martial arts, yet every action the redhead took against Draco was quelled effortlessly.

At long last, Draco struck a blow that knocked Avery to his back once more. Draco fell into a crouch, right leg bent beneath him, the left extended before him. His hands were held bent at the first knuckle, instead of fists, and his arms, the right bent and the left extended, were held at shoulder level to ensure speed. His breath came in short little gasps, and his every muscle seemed to quiver in anticipation of his next strike.

Harry took a breath he hadn't realized he'd been stalling and heard several others around him do the same. He knew his eyes were wide with shock, and suspected that his men, too, held the same echo of pleased surprise.

Draco's head turned ever so slightly to take in the sight of the team of men watching him, perfectly immobile. Embarrassment, but of a pleasant kind, warmed his cheeks as he saw the admiration in the eyes of his band of protectors. He knew just what they were thinking: the poor, broken little Malfoy has some fight in him after all. The shattered man they'd been watching over, coddling, protecting, could, if necessary, protect himself, and protect himself well.

He relaxed ever so slightly, his tense stature losing some of its fury as he let himself take comfort in their presence.

Harry and every man surrounding him jolted in shock when Avery sat up, his hands clenched in claws to rake out Draco's eyes. They began to half-lunge toward the blonde, even knowing they couldn't possibly make it in time to assist. Yet before they could finish that simple action, Draco had released his tense stature to do what it was positioned to do. The coiled right leg straightened like a snake to strike, sending him forward powerfully, and his extended left leg provided a fulcrum on which to pivot as his right foot snapped against the side of Avery's head. His momentum carried him over the falling man, and he twisted in midair to land with his left foot pressed atop Avery's throat, his body bent over his left leg to apply pressure, and his right arm raised, elbow pointing directly toward the ceiling, fingers curled into a fist over Avery's face.

Draco's entire attack happened in the time it took the others to take a single lunging step forward.

He raised his eyes to the gathered crew. "You're the aurors, come take him away before I have to kill his ass," he suggested, his voice strained.

The aurors snapped into action and instantly a dozen wands went into action to send ropes wrapping around Avery's hands and ankles. The resultant pile of rope made Draco's lips twitch into a half-smile as the aurors murmured their apology, until his eyes met Harry.

His amusement fled. The memory of seeing Avery raping his precious Harry raged through his mind, and he let out a gasp. "Harry," he whispered as he raised himself to his feet. Harry was frozen across the room, his stature tense and uncomfortable.

Draco made his way through the aurors, who were rushing to their prisoner, and strode toward Harry. "Are you alright?" Draco asked carefully as me moved across the room, his voice thick with agony as he noticed the flicker of pain in Harry's eyes.

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**_A/N: Cruel, I know..._**

**_Oh and if you ARE interested in me sending you an email when I update, you can either "review" me the email or PM me. Or if a few of you say yes I'll just put my email up and you can email me your email... if that makes any sense lol. Thank you all for your support! It means the world!_**


	26. As the last remnants of strength betray

_**A/N: If you want me to post somewhere saying when I update please just leave me some instructions as to where I can access your blog or leave me an email. I'd prefer if I could just send out one email to everyone who wants me to inform them, but if you'd rather I post somewhere that's cool too. Just let me know and leave me pretty clear instructions. I wouldn't want to post to the wrong person lol. **_

_**Thank you all so much for your continued support. Here's a very small treat for those of you waiting anxiously for... well I can't well give it away HERE, now can I?**_

_**:-P Thanks again, and enjoy!**_

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Harry nodded stiffly. "I'm fine," he mumbled. 

Draco came upon him and instantly enfolded the raven haired man into his arms. Harry let out a little whimper. The pain in his ass was just such that it tore through his nerves the instant Draco's embrace swayed him, yet he returned the gesture without care. He moved to bury his face in the crook of Draco's neck when something happened which rocked him back on his heels.

For the briefest of instants-- so brief that after it passed Harry convinced himself he had imagined it-- Draco kissed him. The most fleeting press of silken lips against his own, the kiss lasted no more than a heartbeat, but Harry felt it wash through him with a near electric jolt. His grip on Draco slackened in his shock, but Draco didn't seem to notice. He pressed his face into the curve of Harry's throat and Harry felt Draco's warm tears slither down his neck and onto his back. He smiled slightly and dropped his head to Draco's shoulder. "You're alright," Harry murmured, and intended it to be both a question and a reassurance.

Draco scoffed. "Me? I wasn't hurt. You're the one…"

Harry shrugged, cutting him off. "I'm alright, he hardly had the chance to do anything to me. I was just so damn worried about you, Draco. I was so damn worried. When I saw Dean and Ron both away, with me, I just… panicked. I was ready to kill the son of a bitch who took you, but I didn't know where to find you. I wish I could have gotten here sooner. I'm sorry, so damn sorry, that I ever left you alone."

Draco placed a gentle comforting kiss to Harry's shoulder, and Harry's entire body seemed to melt. Draco appeared as though he didn't have any idea how deeply his affection moved Harry. "It's not your fault, Harry. I don't blame you. I asked you to leave, remember? It was my decision; I was a fool to think I was safe with that man. I didn't… I sensed that I didn't like him but I _never_ would have imagined that he was… one of them."

The phrase, "one of them," tore through Harry and he wondered if he was ever going to be able to broach the topic with Draco. Had Avery managed to plant a seed of doubt in Draco's mind? Had Avery managed to make Draco wonder, if only for an instant, about Harry's intentions? And if he had, what could Harry do? It was true he was in love with Draco, how could he deny that he found him attractive, if it came down to that? How could he tell Draco to his face that everything Avery said was a lie, that he would never dream of Draco that way? How could he lie to Draco's face? And how could he not? Could he truly tell Draco the truth? How would he be able to live with himself if he did either, if he lied to Draco or scared Draco away?

The fear of the possibilities made Harry shudder, and Draco, still clutching him as though to never let him go, felt it.

"You're shaking," he whispered, and tightened his grip. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, you're still weak."

Harry didn't have the strength to protest. Draco moved away only enough to inform the others of where he was taking Harry, then apparated himself and his cargo to the very same room he had taken up residence in.

"A little help!" he requested of a healer that happened by the open door. "Mr. Potter is hurt. He's somehow exhausted himself, and the guy that took me away…" he felt Harry tense against him. "… the guy who took me… raped him," he finished softly.

Holly gasped in shock and called to another pair of healers.

"It's nothing so serious as all that," Harry objected weakly. "I just need some rest, he didn't even get anywhere with me, barely got into me before Draco _majorly _kicked his ass."

Draco's lips twitched into a smile at the compliment.

The healers supported Harry as Draco slid from beneath his arms and stepped away. Draco smirked as Harry was bundled into the hospital bed Draco had spent the last few weeks in, complaining about not needing all of this attention.

"Just need to sleep," he insisted, and growled in frustration as the healers flicked their wands over him to pilfer out his wounds. He groused about the insensitivity of healers, who refused to use general healing spells to heal flesh wounds, and his face flushed when the healers magically located the torn tissue in his ass.

"Damn," Holly swore, and the three prepped to work with the wounds. They insisted he turn onto his belly so that they could examine the wound, but Harry scoffed at that.

"You don't want to stare at my asshole anymore than I want you staring at my asshole," he joked, and produced his wand. "That's why there's magic."

He twirled the wand and winced as the torn tissue rearranged itself subtly. "See? All better!"

The healers chided him but could do nothing but insist he rest.

"Now you're getting it!" he cheered halfheartedly. "I just need to _sleep_!"

Holly gave him a mock glare. "Hush, you," she fussed. "You should see the number of times people lie about their symptoms because they're ashamed."

"What have I to be ashamed about? I didn't ask him to strangle me either, but he did anyw…"

He snapped his mouth closed as he realized what he'd said. The healers erupted into furious exclamations as they examined his throat, and would not relent until they had gone over him from head to toe. They insisted that he had tried to hide his attempted strangulation from them, while he insisted that he had simply forgotten about it.

Draco couldn't wipe the goofy smile from his lips as the healers ran their heads against the brick wall that was Harry Potter. He was as stubborn and unyielding as the Great Wall, and about as sensitive as it, too, when it came to shooing pesky healers away.

Finally, they abandoned Harry only to round on Draco. It was Harry's turn to chuckle as they flicked their wands at his blond charge, but his heart froze when they suggested he be put into a room down the hall so they could monitor him properly.

"No!" both Harry and Draco bit out at the same moment, causing the healers, who had already grabbed a hold of Draco's arms to show him to his new room, to freeze.

"I stay where I can monitor him," Draco demanded, just as Harry insisted "He doesn't leave my sight!"

The healers glanced between the pair, smirking. "Well, there's no use trying to convince these stubborn men otherwise," Holly pointed out. "May as well pull another bed in here."

Draco and Harry both relaxed immediately. "Smart girl," Harry winked at Holly, who snorted.

"Stubborn men," she responded.

Harry sobered. "Already he's been attacked and kidnapped when I wasn't watching over him. I won't let anything like that happen again."

"I had to watch some derailed reporter try to kill him," Draco put in. "There's no way in hell I'm just going to wander away and leave him unattended."

The healers shared an amused glance. "Yes, sirs," they agreed, and bustled Draco into the bed they pushed near to Harry's.

"Now," Holly announced. "I'm pretty sure this is against our regulations. So don't tell on us, or we'll have to separate you two."

"Of course not," they both agreed. "We won't tell a soul."

Holly laughed at their unintentional synchronicity.

The healers left the room to let their patients rest. The moment the door closed behind them Draco leapt to his feet.

"What happened, Harry?" he demanded. "Why were you so tired?"

Harry's eyelids flickered open. "I went to search for your impressions in the House of Serenity."

Draco's brow furrowed. "But you do that all the time, that shouldn't have drained you like this."

"There… were a lot of impressions."

Draco seemed surprised. "A lot? What do you mean? I thought there was only ever one."

Harry's lips twitched. "Typically there _is_. But the intensity and number of impressions is apparently influenced by not only by the victim's power and pain, but how well I know them. You're extremely powerful, I know you well, and you suffered greatly. The impressions were numerous and intense. Trying to control them wore me out, and Avery found a way to manipulate them to drain me even further. It's a miracle I was able to breathe, much less use my power."

"For you, using magic _is_ like breathing," Draco pointed out, then sobered. "What… what were the impressions?" he asked, hesitant.

Harry felt his eyes fill. "I'm sorry, Draco, if I had known how much there would be, I would never have invaded your privacy, I would have only searched for that which called to me for immediate attention, an immediate threat. But I… I was only expecting one, maybe two, because I knew you were powerful, but…"

Draco wiped a hot tear from Harry's cheek. "What did you feel, Harry?" he asked, his voice gone flat with fear.

"Everything," Harry whispered. His eyes flickered closed, unable to bear the anger he knew would form in Draco's eyes, and the tears spilled over. "Everything, everyone, every time."

Draco seemed to deflate before his very eyes, and stumbled back to sit on his own bed.

"I'm sorry, Draco! I'm so sorry, I never knew it would be like that, I was only hoping to get an impression which would lead me to you today, I never meant to… I never meant to invade those memories, I never meant to pry that way, I swear it."

Harry wondered when he had stood to clutch Draco's shoulders, begging with his eyes for Draco to at least look at him. The simple act of standing had his legs and arms trembling with effort.

"Please," Harry begged, ignoring his entire body which begged to sit down. "Please forgive me, Draco. I swear I didn't mean to."

Harry's pleas finally seemed to sink into Draco's fogged mind. "No," Draco whispered, horrified that Harry would think he needed to be forgiven. "I won't…"

He didn't get any further. Harry shuddered and withdrew as though burned, and Draco was left shocked and confused.

He realized slowly why Harry had pulled away.

"Harry!" Draco exclaimed, and couldn't help but laugh, once, through his tears. He reached to pull Harry close to him. They really were idiots sometimes, the both of them.

"Harry, no, I didn't mean I wouldn't forgive you!" Draco had to force Harry's chin up to stare into his eyes. "I was starting to say I won't blame you for having done something to try to find me. I was only upset because… because you had to go through that. I'm sorry, Harry, please, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot, I didn't realize how that sounded."

Harry buried his face in Draco's shoulder. He was shaking, the exhaustion, stress, and relief taking its toll on him viciously.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Draco whispered into Harry's ear, and tightened his arms around the raven haired man. "Damn, Harry, we really need to work on our communication."

Harry chuckled weakly and draped his arms behind Draco, but had not the strength to do more.

Draco tutted and tugged on Harry's arms. "Come on, into bed with you," he ordered. Harry sluggishly crawled into Draco's bed, with much of Draco's help, his muscles trembling with the adrenaline and aftereffects of the day's events coupled with his typical lack of sleep. He curled his arms up Draco's back and burrowed closer, his face nuzzling against Draco's neck. Draco smiled and tightened his grasp on his Harry protectively.

Within moments they were both asleep.

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**_A/N: DUN DUN DUN... WHO will be the ONE HUNDREDTH REVIEWER?!_**


	27. you to your past

_**A/N: Thank you all! **_

_**Real quickly...**_

_**Merc: I just wanted to quickly explain a little of why Harry couldn't fight back... basically he was just really worn out by the effort of controlling Draco's many impressions, he had basically just endured two months of torture within minutes and it had exhausted him. And no Draco wasn't fighting in the nude, he summoned some slacks first thing when he got his wand back. Hope that helps! Thank you for reviewing!**_

**_and _**

**_Taylor: Don't worry I wasn't upset about your review, I was hoping that wasn't what you meant ;-). I'm glad you clarified, thank you!_**

**_Onward! _**

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Minister Fudge paced his office furiously. That insolent brat had been finding ways to disobey his command and humiliate him for years. The entire ministry knew that Harry rarely if ever answered to Fudge, and on those occasions when he did, it was only because it suited him to do so. Fudge had anticipated this from the boy, and flatly refused to give the boy a job to begin with. Yet the public had adored their precious Boy-Who-Lived-To-Humiliate-Fudge and demanded he be given a job, despite the fact that he had barely graduated from Hogwarts. Fudge had given the little brat a position as an apprentice auror, but the boy had not been satisfied with that. He had gained the trust of a dozen new recruits of his own age, and from there had been unstoppable. Fudge had turned the other cheek when Harry's little friends had started disobeying their true commanders in favor of Harry's orders, because it kept his commanders on their toes and gave him a reason to tighten his leash on the commanders. Yet as the months had passed and Harry's impromptu detachment continued to abandon ministry business in order to scurry about to obey Potter, he had decided to do something about it. He approached Harry with every intention of forbidding him from organizing separate missions for the youth ranks, but Harry's cool dismissal of the very idea had baffled Fudge. He had walked away from the brief confrontation knowing that he had lost his case but not sure how. He had told Harry very clearly that he was not to pull the youth from their designated tasks any longer, and Harry had told him very clearly that he would continue as he had been. End of discussion. 

The knowledge that he had been so easily cowed, and by a young inexperienced boy like Potter, had horrified Fudge. He set the media into action to soil the public opinion of Potter so that he could freely fire the brat, but that had backfired as well. He had sent falsified evidence of wrongdoing to the Daily Prophet, but it had simply vanished. He never saw the evidence again, and he never saw the story printed. Only a week later the paper printed a scalding criticism of Fudge's attempts. How they knew the evidence was falsified was beyond him, and he had been investigated and chided by his own men. The experience only served to further cow the proud man into permitting Harry to do as he pleased.

The boy continued his work unheeded by authority. The various other commanders had no interest in limiting Harry's influence. They knew that he was frightfully good at his job, and his detachment, only thirteen inexperienced aurors-to-be, had become the strongest detachment in the ministry. It wasn't long, less than a year, in fact, before Harry's became the most sought-after detachment and swelled in ranks -- he took the best members of other detachments into his own, many of them older than he and a few of them previously commanders of their own detachments.

Only a year and a half after graduating from Hogwarts, the spirited youth had managed to make a place for himself as one of the most admired aurors in the ministry. Fudge still had not managed to find a way to reign him in, and was chafing under his shortcomings. The entire ministry knew that Harry was untouchable. The little brat never broke any laws or was legally unruly, so Fudge had no reason to chastise the boy. Granted, he often took a shortcut through the legalities of his position in cases where time was an issue, but somehow managed to straighten it all out before Fudge could catch him in the act. Though he knew for a fact that Harry never filed all the proper paperwork nor gotten all of the proper permission from the proper positions before acting, the brat always managed to have a perfectly legitimate copy of everything he needed by the time Fudge made his way to Harry's office.

Fudge suspected bitterly that he had signed and stamped copies of all the paperwork he never bothered with before acting already in his office, and simply filled the date out after the fact. But those whose signatures were on the paperwork insisted that Harry had properly come directly to them.

Fudge knew something was amiss.

One of the times Harry had produced a signed and sealed order of seizure of a property that had been rampaging the streets in hunt of muggles, signed by one Kingsley Shacklebolt. On the date in question, Kingsley had been in California on vacation.

Harry insisted innocently that he had apparated there, and Fudge had no way to prove any different, aside from the fact that Harry had never left Fudge's side.

But Harry never cut through the red tape in an instance that didn't call for it, Fudge had to agree. It was only ever when lives were in danger, but Fudge stood by his laws and inwardly fumed that he didn't have the influence to do as Harry did. He admired the little twerp the freedoms he had, and as a result, was determined to put a stop to it.

Then the boy had managed to up and lose half of his detachment, as well as a whole slew of Voldemort's most powerful supporters. Fudge had finally gotten just the catalyst he needed to throw Harry's command out the door, and had been ecstatic with the culmination of all his dreams, not letting a little thing like missing persons ruin his glee. Yet before he had even been able to fire the idiot boy, the child had managed to stick it to Fudge one last time. He'd quit, calmly and easily thrown all Fudge had allowed him to accomplish back in his face. Fudge hadn't even gotten the pleasure of firing the fool! That fact infuriated Fudge to this day.

And just a few days ago the little bastard had nearly killed one of his men.

Fudge had never been so horrified in his life. The boy had always been untouchable, yes, and stubborn as hell, yes, but _never _had he been violent. He had never endangered the lives of those around him. Fudge knew for sure that the effect of playing house with that horrible traitor Severus Snape had caused the brat to go off the deep end. He was sure he had finally gotten his wish when he had been able to rub Harry's face in the fact that he was no longer considered competent, legally. He had bragged that he could not possibly even think about giving Harry his job, and had waited in anticipation for Harry to erupt and demand his job.

The smug little fucker had simply smirked.

"You called me to your office to tell me that I still quit?" he'd questioned coolly, and shaken his shaggy head. "That's so sweet of you, Fudgie, but I really didn't expect you to have found a way to get me to stay here since last we spoke."

Insufferable little brat!


	28. and the past betrays you to a future

**_A/N: Wow. Only three reviews last chapter. That's no good. That's no good at all. Where has everyone gone? Busy week, I hope, and not that interest has fallen. This chapter is really short because I was a little disheartened because of the drop in reviews. I hope the same doesn't happen for the next chapter._**

**_I hope I get more reviews this chappie, cause if I don't I may not have much incentive to post the next chappie, which is a fun one. Well we'll see, I guess. _**

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Fudge winced as one of the Golden Brat's precious Team Alpha members strode into the room, his gait cocky and at ease. Despite the fact that Fudge was free of the commander, the company had generally stayed intact. They simply operated with no official commander, despite Fudge's annoyance with the arrangement. The team generally looked to this brat, Dean Thomas, for answers and as their representative when official business called for it. When Fudge had tried to assign an outside commander, the effort was simply lost in the process. He distinctly remembered putting it into effect, but the commander never showed, and the team simply scoffed. Their snarky little son of a bitch commander had rubbed off on them, it seemed. Each and every one of them held the same "rules be damned" attitude when it came to Fudge himself. Fudge suspected they did it just to fuck with him, but couldn't figure out how to prove it. 

"Yes, Dean?" he asked coldly, his distaste for the self-satisfied youth thick in his voice.

"You're going to get Harry to take his job back," Dean stated with just as much distaste on his tongue.

Fudge laughed in his face.

Dean stared, still as calm as ever.

Fudge sobered immediately, worried. "You're serious. What the bloody hell are you on about?"

"We want Harry to take his job back. You're going to make that happen."

The minister adopted a sneer, and if he had known how very much he was behaving like Snape he would have cried. "And why would I do that?" Fudge hissed.

"Because if you don't, then all sixty members of his detachment will disband."

Harry happened to command the largest detachment.

Fudge paled, shocked and horrified. To lose sixty men and women simply over one? No way. "You're bluffing."

Dean held out a bit of parchment that stated quite plainly that the undersigned agreed that in the case of Harry's failure to be reinstated, they would turn in their resignation, effective immediately.

Ninety-seven names were listed.

"Oh," Dean added, as though he had forgotten. "Also, a number of other commanders and aurors decided to join our cause."

Fudge nearly fainted. "It's impossible," he gasped, and once again found himself foiled by, if not the boy himself, the boy's very existence. "He's a criminal, I can't possibly hire him."

Dean smirked coldly. "Then you had better take care of those charges quickly," he threatened.

Fudge had been trying to pin the fault of Mike's near death on Harry to get him sent to prison. Dean was subtly implying that Fudge had better not only drop those charges but waylay the ones the Daily Prophet was considering as well as convince the bloody Boy-Who-Annoyed that he should return.

"You're kidding," he whimpered, horrified but knowing that if Dean and the others were serious, there was no way he could get out of this mess other than relenting.

And begging.

There would be lots and lots of begging.

Dean gave him one last infuriatingly calm and cocky smirk before shrugging and striding toward the door. "It's your decision, Fudgie," he threw over his shoulder. "You have two weeks."

The door clicked closed, and Fudge let his head thump onto the desk in dismay. That little bastard Potter. That stupid, annoying, sly, freakish little powerful bastard.

What Fudge wouldn't give to see him knocked down a peg or two.

Or ten.


	29. over which you have no control

_**A/N: A treat for those who reviewed. Only 8 this time, which is better but still I'm greedy and want more, More, MORE! lol. Just kidding. Thank you for reviewing! Hope you enjoy. :-) Please keep it up.**_

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Draco stirred and his silver eyes flickered open, his eyes falling to rest on the form of Harry curled against him. Harry was still dead asleep, giving the blond ample time to admire how beautiful he was. 

Draco had always had a deep appreciation for beauty. His eyes had often sought out beauty, and no matter what form it took, it pleased Draco. Draco was just as content to watch a hummingbird's flight as to stare at a painting. Just as content to study the lines of a man's face as to study those of a woman. He had never considered his sexuality when contemplating they whys of his fascination with beautiful things. He had never bothered to consider his sexuality much at all, in fact. He had been betrothed to the pug-faced Pansy for as long as he could remember, and had no option other than to fill the role of her boyfriend. He had hated the role he'd had to play, hated playing the adoring lover when all he really wanted to do was watch the beauty of the world around him. She was by no means beautiful. Her face was not pleasing to look at, and her personality left more than a little lacking. Yet he had followed his father's dreams and devoted himself to her, if only in body.

His mind had always strayed elsewhere.

It had never occurred to him that he was gay. He never thought of it much. His friend Blaise had come on to him, and though he had not been repulsed, nor had he been particularly interested. But then again, Blaise was just about as physically and emotionally pretty as Pansy.

He remembered the scorn with which he viewed the openly homosexual men at Hogwarts. He had played the part of his father's expectations, and degraded them every chance he got. Yet his heart had never really been in that, either. He had never much cared what the other students were interested in. In fact, he could not blame those who found themselves attracted to the same sex. He often found himself gazing at a certain Gryffindor longingly.

However, he did not only find beauty in images.

He enjoyed skimming his fingertips across the surface of the lake or even simply through the grass. The varying textures of the world around him always soothed him. He would splay his fingertips across the sheets of his bed and sweep them back and forth from the scratchy comforter to the silk sheets. Back and forth, feeling the variation of texture. The action allowed him to clear his mind. Often when he was studying a particularly difficult spell, he found himself focusing on the smooth wood of his wand, marred by the carved images, and smoothing his fingertips across the engravings and marks.

He often wondered at the texture of Harry's smooth skin. Would it feel as silky as it looked?

Draco could appreciate scents and perfumes just as thoroughly as a female. Often other guys scoffed at his attention to pleasant scents, but his appreciation thereof was the only saving grace in his relationship with Pansy. She always smelled soft and fresh, a pleasing mixture of soap and vanilla, her chosen scent of perfume. He could always find a small measure of comfort in burying his nose just above her throat, softly breathing in the scent of her skin. Though her skin was rough and uncared for and her face left much to be desired, her scent never failed to please him.

He wondered often how Harry smelled. He imagined he had an earthy scent, like fresh cut grass or something equally unique. How Draco so loved the smell of fresh cut grass.

The sound of a piano mourning beneath skilled hands also sent chills of contentment down Draco's spine. He loved the sound of any music, so long as it held a hint of warmth and depth, but found that the piano and the guitar were especially pleasing. He had learned to play both at a young age because the sounds helped ground him in times of need. Often he had drowned out his father's beatings by imagining the keys of his baby grand, imagined practicing the flowing music and listening to its dramatic peal in his mind's ear. He had lived through many nights of pain and loneliness in front of his piano or with his guitar perched on his knee.

The sound of Harry singing softly had put Draco at ease more effectively than anything ever before. He had strained to listen for quite some time, hoping Harry would gain confidence and increase his volume, but when that didn't work he had dared to request. He had not wanted to risk Harry stopping, but had been driven by his deep appreciation for Harry's soft voice. And he had not been disappointed. As he had lain wrapped within Harry's arms, listening to the thrum of his voice, he had been soothed as thoroughly as if he had been given a calming draught.

His appreciation for taste extended far beyond simple foods. He did not have a sophisticated palette, merely a discerning one-- he appreciated the boldness of common foods beyond all of that. He did not favor bland fancy meals. Instead, he preferred spices. Yet he could turn around and appreciate the sweetness of the honeysuckle flower just as well. He enjoyed the thick sweetness of pumpkin juice as much as the sharp taste of peppers.

Harry, he imagined, tasted hot, like a shot of firewhisky or the bite of cinnamon.

He glanced down at the sleeping man and smiled. He hadn't been able to resist earlier. He had been so fucking worried about Harry, and had felt so useless, trussed up as he was, unable to even comfort the dark haired man. He had wanted nothing more than to kill Avery. And then, in the moment the others had taken the bleeding bastard off his hands, he had wanted even more to learn for himself just how soft Harry's lips were, just how spicy Harry really did taste. He had wanted to fling himself into Harry's arms and taste his silken lips, his clever tongue, the hollow of his neck. Yet somehow he found the strength to refrain from ravaging him as he'd so wanted to do. Somehow he had stopped himself from learning the taste of his lips. Somehow he had resisted.

Almost.

Nothing short from Armageddon could have stopped him from brushing his lips across Harry's. He had wanted to for so long, wanted to nibble those lips and curl his fingers in that hair. Wanted to spend hours exploring the lines of Harry's face with his lips and tongue.

The brief whisper of contact had not been nearly enough. Instead of causing him to want Harry less, it had caused him to want him even more. Exponentially more. A painful amount more.

He accredited his self-control to an act of God, because if it had been up to him, he would have done more than just pass his lips over Harry's.

Which of course would have sickened the raven haired beauty, and Draco would be left in the hospital by himself, with no one to sing to him and no one to hold him so that he felt safe enough to sleep.

Draco sighed and forced himself not to press a kiss to Harry's temple. The urge was there, nearly overpowering, but he was too scared to awaken Harry with the touch.

He was able to spend quite some time admiring the slumbering man. Harry was handsome, there was no denying it, and watching him at rest was fun in a surprising way. Draco had always felt that watching someone sleep was intruding on a private moment, yet somehow, feeling Harry's arms clutching him dispelled that feeling. He traced his fingertips along Harry's hairline, smoothing the wisps of hair which flopped into his face. He wanted to cup Harry's cheek against his palm, but resisted, suspecting it would wake him. He settled instead on tracing his fingertips through Harry's hair. The texture was all he had imagined, like heavy silk. He smiled and curled his head down to rest against the pillow just above Harry's. He continued to trace his fingers through Harry's hair, his sensitive nose picking up the scent. It smelled fresh, with no particular scent but definitely clean, like the generic yet pleasant scent of soap, melded with the scent of Harry's skin, a warm musk, the scent of man.

Draco's fingertips had taken on a mind of their own. He twirled the warm strands of midnight silk through his fingers, delving his hand gently into its warm depths, until his fingertips could trace along Harry's scalp. He smiled at the sensation, and his hand made its way down, combing through the heat of Harry's hair, until he found himself with his hand curled around Harry's chin. He nearly pulled away in shock. He hadn't realized how bold his hands had gotten. He pulled his head up slightly to check whether Harry was awake. He was either a heavy sleeper or just that exhausted, Draco decided, because his breathing was still even and his eyes closed, his lashes brushing against his cheeks softly. Draco smiled and traced his thumb along the curve of Harry's cheekbone. When still Harry did not stir, his hands were emboldened by their success and thirsting for more exploration. He smirked and shifted his body lower, so that he was nose-to-nose with Harry. His right arm, which had been curled beneath Harry's neck, he pulled away and bent above his head, with his fingertips able to delve freely into Harry's raven hair.

He froze for a moment after each movement he made, to ensure that Harry did not awaken.

Harry gave no response.

Draco bit his lip. He had to be very careful, so that he did not get too bold and cause those green eyes to open. Not only did Harry need to sleep, but Draco did not want to be caught with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

Draco's left hand continued its exploration. He traced Harry's cheekbone then followed the natural line of his cheek down to his jaw. His fingers grazed even more gently over Harry's lips, knowing that he was getting into more dangerous territory. Harry's lips were most likely more sensitive than his cheeks.

He moved instead to the lightening bolt scar on Harry's forehead. He traced over the slight ridge it puckered into and was pleased with the slight variation of texture. He traced it top-to-bottom, then, smiling at the sensation. To Draco's sensitive fingertips, it was slightly cooler than the rest of the skin around it, as well as rougher, so feeling both textures and temperatures beneath the same finger made his fingertip tingle with pleasure.

His fingertips continued their happy journey across the planes of Harry's face contentedly, but suddenly Draco's lips got jealous. In the space of an instant he had the undeniable urge to kiss that sole imperfection on Harry's face. He nearly whimpered out loud in his attempts to quell the urge, but in the end, he lost. His head tilted upward and he placed a soft kiss across the scar, pulling back carefully to be sure he had not awakened Harry.

Harry's breathing was even, his eyes closed.

Draco smiled. His lips once again pulled him forward, and he placed gentle kisses across Harry's cheek and temple. He wanted to increase the pressure of his touch, but dared not risk awakening Harry. So he forced his lips to settle on the slight pressure he allowed them, and though he wanted more, he traded lack of pressure for quantity, and was pleased. He pressed butterfly-soft kisses across the skin he could reach without jostling his sleeping companion.

It wasn't long before he realized it wouldn't be enough.

His lips inevitably made their way to the very corner of Harry's mouth. Draco exhaled slowly, trying to regain control of himself, before he realized that his breath had fanned softly against Harry's cheek and ear.

Harry shivered.

Draco froze in fear. Had that simple breath awakened him?

He waited tensely for several moments, and when Harry showed no further sign of consciousness, his raging heartbeat slowed. He relaxed by degrees, but wouldn't let himself relax completely until he was sure.

"Harry?" he breathed softly, his heart lodged in his throat.

Nothing.

Perhaps, he reasoned, the shudder had simply been Harry's body reacting, despite his unconscious state?

Draco silently hoped so.

Carefully he forced himself to relax against the pillows, and halted his explorations. His scare had grounded him once more and made him realize how disastrous it could be if Harry woke.

Several moments passed before that caution once again fled him, and he was left with the decision that it was safe to continue. Harry had exhausted himself so deeply that it wouldn't be surprising if he didn't awaken for several hours yet, Draco reasoned. There was no way he would wake up simply because of a little chaste kiss.

Draco couldn't tell at what point it was that he stopped caring whether Harry woke up. He realized suddenly that part of him in fact _wanted_ Harry to awaken, simply so he could discern his response.

His lips found their way to the corner of Harry's lips.

There was no response from Harry.

He slowly slid his lips along Harry's.

Harry didn't stir.

He deepened the pressure of the kiss ever so slightly

Harry's breathing was even.

Draco's eyes fluttered closed as his lips began to move ever so softly against Harry's.


	30. even in times of peace

**_A/N: I'm just going to take the reduction of reviews as a sign that all's going well. Let me know if you DON'T like something, especially, but feel free to review when you want, and I won't pressure anymore :-) Hope you like!_**

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Harry and his team had learned how to play dead. 

They had created a spell that, when wordlessly delivered, countered the effect of a verbal Avada Kedavra, and another which could be coupled with it which made the heartbeat impossible to sense. It was developed in order for a spy to pretend to kill, when in actuality he was not. But the only drawback was that breathing was not interrupted. They had planned for the eventuality of Voldemort discovering the existence of the two spells and beginning to use Crucio to ensure that the corpses were, in fact, corpses, by putting a newly "killed" subject under the spell to see if they screamed. If they did, they were obviously not dead, and the spy was obviously not loyal to him. So for the spell to be effective, Harry and his men had learned how to control their breathing even when under assault. They had not initially practiced with Crucio, as it was illegal, but once they had graduated from the jolt of Tasers, they knew that it was not enough. They voluntarily put themselves under the spell in order to ensure that all of the effort was not wasted, and had learned how to remain completely still and silent while the spells tore through them. Though Harry had never had the pleasure of being killed by any of the spies using the pair of spells, he was grateful that he had learned to control himself so completely.

And never had he been more grateful than when he awoke to feel Draco hesitantly teasing his hair.

Harry had become, through necessity, a light sleeper. He woke with the slightest sound or movement, and was instantly and fully alert upon waking. He had made it his habit to get a full impression on the world around him before stirring, even before opening his eyes. So though he would be awakened by the slightest scuff of an assassin's shoe as he came into the room, when he stilled to be sure Harry was sleeping, Harry was able to bide his time and still appear to be asleep while the assassin grew cocky and came in closer for the kill. At which point Harry was able to strike with stunning speed and accuracy, knowing _exactly_ where the attack would come from.

As such, Harry awoke the second Draco shifted to touch his hairline for the first time.

Yet he had been startled by the contact, and remained frozen in his sleeplike state. He didn't want to embarrass Draco, for he sensed the hesitancy in the touch and didn't want to shatter that fragile comfort. Harry knew that Draco had only done it out of reflex, and would be embarrassed if Harry woke, suspecting that he would misinterpret the action.

Yet when the soft caress continued, a curiosity for what Draco would do took over him and caused him to further his act longer than he would have otherwise. What, exactly, was Draco doing, besides sending goosebumps skittering down Harry's arms?

Harry suddenly became determined to find out.

He forced his breathing to remain calm as Draco tortured him with affection. He held his body rigidly in check; several times he nearly whimpered out loud in response to Draco's soft touch. The right side of his face felt as though it had been electrified by the time Draco's fingertips had completed one circuit. It tingled with sensation and pleasure. He had to fight not to let his eyes roll or clench closed. It was a battle simply to breathe properly.

Harry had never had so much trouble remaining calm. Knowing that it was Draco who was so gently and lovingly caressing him drove him mad with desire. The blonde had no idea how very much he was affecting his victim simply by brushing his fingertips across his cheeks in that way.

When Draco brushed his fingertips across his lips, Harry nearly lost the battle he was waging against a gasp. Yet by some miracle he managed to win. By a hair.

The tenderness with which Draco kissed his scar did still his breathing for a moment, but he played it off, hoping that Draco did not notice the slight catch. To feel Draco's soft lips press against his skin so softly, tenderly, made his heart ache.

Then Draco's lips had continued their doting across Harry's exposed face, and the battle to calm his breathing was nearly lost. He wanted so badly to return Draco's attentions, but suspected that Draco would be so humiliated by being discovered that he would not continue.

And Harry seriously wanted him to continue.

So he kept himself perfectly still, hoping for a way to ensure that Draco would permit him to return those soft kisses.

When Draco's lips had hovered over the corner of his mouth, Harry steeled himself for the jolt of reaction he was sure he would experience with the contact.

Yet he had _not_ steeled himself for the feeling of Draco's soft exhalation across his lips, cheek, and ear.

The sensation tingled and caused his whole body to react.

Harry wanted to curse himself. He could feel Draco pull away, knew that Draco suspected he had been discovered, and fought even more to keep himself in check.

His efforts were rewarded when Draco whispered his name hesitantly. Harry wanted to grin goofily, but forced his lips to remain lax with sleep.

When the slight contact came, Harry was prepared. Inside, he was writhing with agonizing pleasure, but to Draco's eyes he was utterly unaffected.

The brush of Draco's lips was nearly too much to bear, and when Draco deepened that chaste pressure, he could feel his mouth begin to disobey him and respond.

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**_A/N: Sorry, I know I just said I would stop nagging, but could a few of you give me a bit of a vote? Is this story getting too lengthy? If you want me to wrap it up soonish, then please let me know (I won't be offended, it's way longer than anything else I've ever written). If you DO want me to continue, then I PROMISE I'll update more often, because I know it's getting frustrating! At least every other day, I'd hope. Let me know, please, what you think I should do with this bad boy (the story) and I'll go with the popular vote. Don't worry this isn't a "review or I'll kill your puppy" type thing, I'm honestly curious, and will go with what you, the readers, want._**


	31. frustration brims and new pains grow

**_A/N: Twelve is a good number. I like that number. :-). Thank you for all your input and for reviewing_ honestly_, it's GREATLY appreciated! Just a few comments before I continue..._**

_**just me: Thank you for pointing out that my breaks are poorly staged, I apologize and will definitely work on that! I appreciate your review, I'll keep what you've said in mind!**_

_**Taylor: hehe... forever is good for me, too ;-). Or at least for a few more chapters until I wrap up some of these loose ends...**_

_**Everyone: correct me if I'm wrong, but it looks like the consensus is, as long as I don't just have them hanging out doing nothing for fifty chapters then I should keep it up? **_

_**Cool, I can do that! Let me know how you feel it's coming along, I LOVE the reader involvement:-) Some of you will be pleased with the upcoming chapters, some surprised, some not so much. Let me know if you're one of the "not pleased" people especially!**_

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"Good morning, gentlemen!" A deep voice growled from the doorway as the door was swung open. Draco withdrew immediately, his skin bursting into tingling awareness and embarrassment by being caught kissing Harry's sleeping form. 

The effect the near yell had on Harry was much more dramatic. Having been concentrating so hard for so long on remaining impassive to the sensation of Draco's touch, he had not nearly prepared himself for an intrusion, and he jolted away from Draco violently.

Unfortunately he was on a hospital bed which was small for one person, and was sharing the space with another man. The sudden movement his muscles flew into caused him to begin to slide. Within an instant he slid off the tiny bed and fell on his ass; his left arm was still curled under Draco, and remained behind for a moment too long. The speed and angle at which he had fallen caused his elbow and shoulder to jar terribly.

He growled in pain and frustration as he clutched the strained arm to himself.

"Damnit, Severus, some way you have of waking someone up!" he growled, taking his frustration at having not been able to kiss the delicious blonde out on the intruder.

Severus cocked a brow. "Waking someone up?" he asked, his brow cocked.

Draco's right hand curled over his lips in horror. Severus had seen. Severus knew. Would Severus tell?

"Yes, damnit, don't you know how to knock?"

Sev smirked. "You were asleep, Potter?" he asked.

Harry glared him down. "Yes, _Snape_, I was."

Sev's eyes flickered to Draco.

"Please don't!" Draco gasped, and the words shocked even himself. He had not intended to speak out loud. But he desperately hoped that Severus would not hint as to what he was doing when Harry awoke, and in his desperation had called out.

"Please don't, what?" Harry asked from the floor, cradling the arm to his chest.

Draco's wide eyes flew to Harry. _Please don't, what, indeed,_ he thought bitterly. How on earth was he going to cover this one up?

"Please… don't… fight. It's… I'm too tired." Draco didn't even sound convincing to himself, but Harry seemed content.

"Fine," he agreed. "I'm sorry I reacted that way, Severus," he groused. "I just hurt my arm and pain makes me cranky."

Sev nodded. "I apologize for interrupting… your sleep."

Harry glared at him. He knew Sev knew he'd been awake, but desperately wanted Severus to keep his secret as well as Draco's.

Severus gave Draco a tiny smile. "How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked kindly.

"Fine," he replied breathlessly. "Never better, I slept great, how about you?"

Severus nodded. "I'm fine," he responded, and turned a smirk on Harry.

"Mr. Potter?"

"What?" Harry snapped irritably. He was sporting an incredible hard-on and didn't appreciate having to play Sev's little game.

"I was asking if you were well. Perhaps you need help into your bed?" he offered innocently.

Harry snarled. "No, I'm fine, what did you want?"

"Why, to come see how my two favorite sons were doing, of course," he pointed out sweetly.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "We're fine, _papa_. Never better." He suspected bitterly that Sev knew how that sounded and how Harry would take it. "Two favorite sons" made it sound as though they were both Sev's children. Which would inevitably bring to Harry's mind the image of kissing his brother.

He hated Severus sometimes.

"You know I feel as though you are both my own flesh and blood," Severus continued, and let his eyes show how earnest he was in fact being, despite the added plus of tormenting Harry.

"That's very kind of you, Uncle Sev," Draco spoke warily. "But what has brought all this on?"

"Just seeing you two here together, sleeping like a couple of puppies, all cuddled up together."

Draco looked like he was going to be sick.

Apparently Sev's actions were not just affecting Harry, and that fact alone made Sev reign in his cruel intentions.

"That's… nice," Draco forced out.

Sev made his way to Draco's side to sit on the bed Harry had unintentionally vacated. "I'm sorry, that sounded strange, didn't it? I just mean that, you know, dogs, they get mutual comfort from being around each other, and it warms my heart to see you and Harry, I swear I'm not trying to judge or make fun of your situation, I am simply glad you feel comfortable with Harry."

Draco smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Uncle."

"You're a quack," Harry groused, and stood. Seeing Sev in his rightful spot by Draco's side sent a jolt of jealousy through him, and he exiled himself to his own bed reluctantly.

"Does your arm need healing?" Sev asked Harry, his teasing evaporated.

"No, it's okay," Harry replied, forcing himself to remain civil. "I just twisted it a little, it's not actually sprained."

"I'm truly sorry I startled you so badly," Sev insisted.

Just like that, Harry's good intentions fled. He met Sev's eyes coldly. "I'm sure," he responded snidely.

Sev simply returned his attention to Draco. "I heard about what happened yesterday, Draco," he began. "Are you quite certain you're okay?"

Harry seemed to fly to his feet. "I'll be back later," he chirped, then was gone before either of the other two could object.

Sev cocked a brow and pointed after Harry. "What was that about?" he asked innocently.

Draco bit his lip as guilt assailed him.

"Did you hear… _everything_ that happened yesterday?"

Sev nodded. "Yes, you were taken, correct? And Avery tried to force you to enjoy his attentions. I'm sorry that you had to go through that, Draco, I know that that can be as jarring as… as being hurt."

Draco lowered his eyes and shook his head. "I'm alright, Uncle, I didn't let him get to me, truly. He was just another annoyance to me. It's… It's Harry I'm worried about."

Sev jolted in shock. "Whatever do you mean?" he demanded.

Draco met his eyes. "Nobody told you," he said flatly, more a statement than a question. Sev took it as such and simply waited.

"Harry… went to the House of Serenity after I was taken, to try to get an impression from my stay there, to see whether it happened that the person who took me was somehow hinted at. But… there were more impressions than Harry anticipated."

"More than one impression? I've never heard of that!" Sev exploded. "That's… impossible."

Draco shook his head miserably. "He said that the intensity and frequency of the impressions are apparently influenced by more than just strength and pain," he explained. "He said that since he knows me well and I had been through so much he was able to pick up many, many impressions. As in, he felt all of the pain that I went through while I was there."

Severus seemed as though he were about to leap to his feet to follow Harry, so Draco placed a hand on his to prevent him moving. "He also said he saw all of the men. So he was able to see and feel everything all of the men did to me. He actually apologized to me for having intruded on my privacy. Can you imagine? Him having to go through that all and worrying about me forgiving him for it! But it worked, he was able to find Avery in the impressions and he came after me. But… Avery got it in his head that seeing him… seeing him… _hurt_ Harry would torment me more than simply hurting me. So he did. Sev, he… he was able to penetrate Harry; he raped Harry."

Sev reached to pull the shuddering blond into his arms. "Draco, son, don't blame yourself," he insisted immediately.

Draco broke down. "It's my fault, Uncle," he sobbed. "All of that, he's gone through so much, because of me. I should have just let those bastards kill me, Sev, I should have just stopped eating what Padma brought me. I should have…"

Sev held the boy as he sobbed out his guilt and pain. "I should have died in there, Sev, so that I never got a chance to hurt Harry."

Sev hushed him gently. "No, Draco, no, don't you even think it. Please, Draco, don't blame yourself, my boy, you have every right to live, just as much a right as anyone else."

"But everything I do hurts Harry!"

Sev shook his head and rubbed Draco's back in comforting circles. "No, Draco, don't think that! Harry is just generally prone toward trouble, if not you then he would stumble onto a major crime ring and get himself blasted to bits or something."

Draco shook his head. "This is all my fault," he moaned, and refused to be comforted. "I never should have let Harry help me, I should have made him think I was one of Voldemort's supporters, then he would have been able to kill me and wouldn't be hurting because of me."

Sev snorted. "Draco, you have a lot to learn about Harry if you honestly think he would be better off with you dead. Do you know that you're the first person who's made him truly smile in two years?"

Draco shook his head. "Only because he was upset about losing so many of his women. I'm nothing special, Sev."

"No," Sev insisted, hesitant to hint too hard but not willing to let the blonde think so low of himself. "Trust me, if he hadn't found you in that place he still would be just as brooding as ever."

Draco's whimpers died in his throat. "What do you mean, Uncle?"

Severus patted the boy's back. "Harry values your friendship highly," he stated, attempting to steer the conversation away from treacherous waters. "If not for you then yes, he would have been pleased to find his aurors, but he still would not have been able to smile again for quite some time. You've been incredibly good for him," Sev pointed out, and smiled down at his godson. "No matter what you think happened to him because of you, he would never, ever trade out your presence for those things to go away. He would rather have you here with him and have to struggle to keep you well than to live a life without your friendship in it."

Draco smiled hesitantly. "You think so?" he asked hopefully, innocently.

Sev pulled the boy into his arms once more. "I know so."

Draco wiped at his eyes. "I'm being a fool, aren't I?" he murmured, and shivered. "I'm sorry I keep going all bonkers on you, Uncle."

"It's okay, son. I promise you. I'm just glad I can be here for you."

"About that stuff you said, about us being like brothers," Draco began.

Sev clicked his tongue. "No," he stated with surety, not sure where Draco was going yet but wanting to clarify just in case. "I didn't say you were like brothers, I said you were both like sons to me."

"Well," Draco pushed on. "I think it would be nice to have a brother. But I'd rather it not be Harry. He's…" Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "Sev, you saw," he stated bluntly.

Severus kept his face blank. "What did I see, exactly, Draco?" he asked calmly.

Draco hid his face in his hands. "Please don't play coy with me, Uncle, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Sev shook his head. "I'm not trying to be coy. What I meant to say was, what exactly were your intentions?"

"Are you about to give me the 'you better not hurt my son' speech?!" Draco exclaimed incredulously.

Sev laughed out loud in shock. "No!" he insisted. "Draco, my boy, I only meant, what exactly did you intend to accomplish? I swear I wasn't trying to defend Harry's honor."

Draco searched his uncle's eyes. "Sev, I was kissing him. What the bloody hell do you mean what did I intend to accomplish?"

Sev threw his head back and exhaled loudly, then met the boy's eyes squarely. "Draco, I mean, were you trying to determine whether you would react to kissing a male? Were you trying to freak Harry out? Were you trying to determine whether he had ulterior motives? Were you trying to find an earring back between his teeth? Were you trying to see how long he would stay asleep if someone happened to fall on his face and start snogging him? That is what I mean by 'what are your intentions.'"

Draco wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry at Sev's words.

"I… I…"

Sev put a finger across Draco's lips. "You don't have to answer me if you don't want to, Draco. I can understand this is a difficult time for you. I simply want you to think about what I'm asking you. Now, I'm going to go find Harry. He… I need to find Harry. Please, don't let yourself get upset, just think honestly and tell yourself the truth. I'll talk to you later, if you want to."

Draco nodded miserably. "Thank you, Uncle," he whimpered.

"I'll send Dean in to sit with you while I talk to Harry."

* * *

"He told you."

He was trying for furious but his voice was flatly sullen.

Sev slid to the floor beside him. "Harry, are you alright?"

"Draco can't be alone," he replied.

Sev nodded. "Dean is there. Are you alright?"

Harry turned his face away. "I'm sorry I asked the guys not to tell you, I just didn't want you to worry about me, I knew you would worry about me but it isn't necessary."

"Harry, are you alright?"

"It really isn't a big deal, he didn't get far with me, and you should have seen Draco kick his ass, he was like The Terminator meets Chow Yun-Fat."

"Harry, are you alright?"

"Avery didn't stand a chance against him, I never knew Draco could kick ass so well, he was spectacular."

"Harry, are you alright?"

"I knew you would worry about me, Sev, so I asked them not to tell you, I mean, the impressions drained me pretty badly but it's not like they lingered or anything, I couldn't even really remember anything, after that, and I mean, yeah, watching Draco get hurt was bad, but it helped me find him, and he's okay now, so it's okay, I'm okay."

"Harry, you're lying."

"I am not! The impressions were plentiful and I had to watch what happened to Draco, but I mean, he's fine now, he's sleeping right in there in that bed, well he's not sleeping anymore but he _was_ sleeping, sleeping fine. He's okay."

He still hadn't turned to face Severus.

"Harry," Sev pressed gently. "Shut up."

Harry bit his lips to keep himself quiet.

"Look at me."

Harry's head bowed, still carefully turned away.

"Harry, look at me."

Harry turned to face Sev, the tears streaming unbidden down his cheeks. "I feel like I'm playing Simon Says," he joked halfheartedly.

Severus met his eyes earnestly. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry's eyes slammed closed, spilling even more tears onto his cheeks.

"Harry. Are you alright?"

More tears pulsed down Harry's cheeks.

"Harry. Are you alright?"

"I remember it all," he admitted on a whimper.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"No!" Harry snapped, and his eyes flew open, shooting fury. "I felt it all, Severus, all of what those sick sons of bitches did to him, every time they hit him and bit him and fucked him, I felt it! And I have no way to do anything about it! Now I'm sitting here wallowing in a misery that isn't even my own! I was never raped, never touched, never _any of it_, but I feel it on my skin, my body itches with the feel of a thousand unwanted fingers all over me, my tongue tastes their dicks and my own blood, but I've never had to swallow their cum. I feel it roiling around in my stomach like a ghost of itself, but I've never tasted it! I was a spectator to the worst moments of his life, but I felt everything he felt, and how do you go about getting treatment for that? How do you tell someone 'I have self-worth issues from being repeatedly and violently raped, but I was never actually raped,' or 'I've had three hundred guys fuck me but I'm a virgin,' or some such thing? I feel scars for wounds I've never even known, Severus! I've got this hatred swirling through my mind, this awful, burning, horrid hatred that I wish I could scream out and cry out, but I have no reason to hate. I hate myself for something that hasn't happened to me, I hate myself for not being able to fight against those men but I wasn't even there, and I… I can't… I… God, Sev. He… he… he… he begged… for… for… for… me to to to to save him. He begged for _me_, he screamed _my name _and begged for _me_, he begged for me to save him, and I never came to him. How can he, how can he how can he how can he forgive me! And now, and now, and now, Avery… Avery… Jesus Christ, Sev, he fucking raped me, Sev, he fucking fucked me, and I couldn't even raise a hand against him because I was so wrapped up in Draco's memories, memories of wanting to die and wanting to be left alone, begging for sleep or a bite to eat, or a goddamned minute alone, begging to be able to take a fucking piss without someone holding my goddamned dick for me and I couldn't even save Draco, I couldn't keep him from seeing me like that, I couldn't keep him from seeing that sick son of a bitch fuck me, and me just sit there, me just take it, I just took it, I didn't even fight him, I couldn't even push him away, I couldn't _do anything_. How could I let Draco see me like that, so helpless, so fucking weak? What must he think?"

Sev listened. He had never seen Harry so upset, but he knew that he would eventually find a topic he wished to discuss more in depth and pose a question to Sev. Sev served as a sounding board to Harry; rarely ever did he actually provide comfort. Harry had found a way to find his comfort in himself, and the only times he needed Severus to comfort him were the times during which he had turned against himself, as was the case when Sev had discovered his love for Draco. Other times Sev was simply expected to listen and offer advice. Harry was nothing if not logical and methodical, which is what had made him such a spectacular auror.

It was times like this that Sev had to simply listen and wait for his cue.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question," Harry murmured after a moment.

There's his cue.

"Honestly?" Sev asked as gently as he could.

"Of course."

"Honestly," Sev began, "I think that it was good for Draco to see that, if only because…" he rushed to explain, but Harry cut him off.

"Good for him! To see me raped by the same guy who tormented him! Avery said himself that it would upset Draco to see me hurt, and not to sound self-centered but I know it did. Draco cares little for himself, it is others he cares about."

Sev raised his hands to defend himself. "Please, Harry, you asked me to be honest, so hear me out. Let me explain what I mean."

Harry huffed. "Fine."

"Okay, as I was saying, I think that it was good for Draco if only because he has been hating himself _so much_ because he had been defenseless against that same man. He had been forced into that situation and he thought himself weak because he couldn't save himself. So if only to prove to him that what happened to him was not his fault, then what happened to you is not entirely bad for him. I know that sounds terrible and as though I'm belittling what happened to you, but…" he trailed off, uncertain

"No, I see what you mean," Harry admitted.

"For Draco to see you, someone he damn near idolizes, be put into the same position as he, I'm sorry to say, may help his self-worth issues."

"I hope so, actually," Harry agreed.

"Though you must keep in mind how much it did in fact hurt him to see you suffer. He blames himself for what's happened to you."

"That fool," Harry groused.

"That's true, he is a fool."

Sev waited for Harry to change the subject to another of the things bothering him.

"I don't know how to handle… I don't know how to handle his impressions."

Sev nodded. "I understand that you're confused," he agreed. "How do you feel right now?"

Harry slid his tongue across his teeth. "Insecure, scared, hurt, abused. But I have no right to those feelings, they aren't mine to feel."

Sev shook his head to counter that statement. "Harry, though those men did not touch you personally, you still lived through the pain and suffering that Draco did, not only the physical but the mental, as well. Draco's experience is but a memory for him the same way yours is. Just because you didn't live through it live, doesn't mean you didn't live through it. I think you should find a psychiatrist who is either a wizard or knows about magic, and see him. Draco will be seeing a psychiatrist, as well, to work through what happened, perhaps you can see the same one or even have a few sessions with Draco. Perhaps having you there, having been through literally the same thing, will help him feel more comfortable talking about it, especially if you bring up the more painful memories to both prompt him to discuss it and to get it off your own chest."

"But how can I put myself level with him when technically I _didn't_ go through the same thing?"

Sev shook his head again. "Harry, magic can do many things. Magic put you through the same things. If you feel in your heart as though you are in some way detached from those memories then by all means, try to handle them yourself, if you wish. But I truly believe that Draco would be comforted by your experience. He will feel guilty at first, yes, but you can help him understand that it was not his fault. If you feel, honestly, that those memories will alter the way you perceive the world around you, if you feel that they will make your life more difficult by being a part of you, then seek help. If you explain the situation to the psychiatrist, he will be able to find a way to work with you."

Harry nodded. "I think I'll try, and maybe after a while I can offer to join Draco, but only if you speak to him about it first, I don't want him to feel awkward having me around."

"He won't, I'm sure of it, but I shall ask him when you wish me to. I truly think your presence will calm him."

"But he didn't want to tell me everything," Harry objected. "He told Dean things he hadn't told me, the day Mike attacked him. I walked in and they hadn't noticed. I heard some of what he said, he still hasn't told me."

"Harry, you must realize that at that point Draco was still orienting himself to the world around him, he probably just needed to talk at that moment and you weren't around so he spoke to Dean. If he was able to work through the issue then it's a good sign that he hasn't felt the need to bring it up again, perhaps that wound has been healed now."

Harry saw the logic in that. "You're right, Sev, I guess I was just taking it personally, but I have no right to. And that doesn't bother me."

Sev's lips pulled into a small smile. Harry and his logic. Harry and the logic that chased away his fear, his anger, his hatred.

Sev knew that there was at least one other thing bothering his young friend, and waited patiently while Harry mulled it over.

"I did save him," he finally whispered. "I did save him from those men, didn't I?"

Sev nodded.

"He begged for me to save him, and I did. Didn't I? But I didn't save him in time. I didn't save him when he asked me to, when he wanted me to, when he begged me to. He stopped screaming for me long before I showed up. He screamed for a hero he had only ever hated but sworn himself to, and I couldn't even save him from his hell."

"Prayers cannot always be answered immediately. You worked as quickly as you possibly could with the information you were given. You had him out of there within three days of finding out that they were being held in the House."

Sev waited.

"Two," Harry corrected softly.

Sev smiled. "See? That's damn good work, Harry."

"He probably doesn't think so," he challenged.

"Just how irrational do you think your little bed buddy is, Harry?"

Harry's eyes flew to meet Sev's furiously.

Sev couldn't help it; he laughed. "Oh, if you could have seen your face, you would have said it, too."

Harry blushed deeply. "Shut up," he groused.

Sev tousled his hair. "Oh, come on, don't tell me you aren't pleased."

"But what… what if he's just…"

Sev sobered and nodded. "Say it," he requested softly.

"What if he only is behaving that way because it's the only way he knows to behave? What if those men messed him up so much that he thinks it's expected of him? He… he kissed me, but he desperately wanted me to remain asleep. What if he only did it to see what he would feel? What if he only did it because Avery managed to convince him?"

Sev cocked his head. "Convince him what?"

Harry dropped his head into his hands. "Hell," he swore.

"Harry, what did that man say to him?" Sev demanded. "Did he try to convince Draco that he actually _wanted _that to happen to him?"

Harry shook his head frantically. "No, no, nothing like that. But… He told Draco that I… that I was just another one of his customers, but I was too cheap to pay so I was trying to seduce him, instead."

Sev's mouth fell open. "Harry!" he gasped. "Harry, son, you…"

"I know it's not true," he whispered. "I felt the intentions of those men from the impressions. I felt how cruel some of them were, I felt how much they loathed the world, how much they loathed Draco, and for nothing. I'm nothing like them, they disgust me. I would… I would never hurt Draco. I wouldn't dream of hurting Draco. Well I mean, I would, but it'd be a nightmare, which I actually _have _had. But that's not the point. I could barely breathe much less protest his stupid ramblings about how I was only after Draco's body. Draco defended me, but I just… I feel like he may be doubting me, and maybe he only kissed me so that he wouldn't be so repulsed if I ever kissed him. I'm so afraid that… that even if something happened, he would feel too indebted to me to deny me. But I don't want it to be about that, I…"

"I know," Sev interrupted. "I know you don't want him to feel like he _has _to be with you."

"Yes. But sometimes, he just… I mean, he tells me how much he owes me, even though he doesn't, and he swears that he'll make it up to me somehow, but what if he gets it in his head that _that_ is how I want him to repay me? What if I can't tell the difference?"

"He'll talk to me," Sev assured him. "I will make sure he is looking out for his best interest when he decides what he is to do with you."

Harry smiled gratefully.

"But I don't think that is the case. I cannot guarantee anything, but, well, he didn't look like a man who had been forced into something repulsive. When we spoke, he turned this delicate embarrassed red, more like a man who had been caught crushing than a man who hated what he'd done. There was no disgust in his eyes. But I will talk to him to discern more properly what he is thinking. I have him thinking about it right now."

Harry gnawed his lip thoughtfully. "We'll see, I suppose," he decided finally.

Sev nodded, waiting.

"Thank you, Sev," Harry whispered .

That was his cue to change the subject.

Sev smiled and patted Harry's shoulder. "Of course, my boy. Now, let's get you back to bed, or the healers will be all over my ass."

Harry groaned. "God, I hate healers. Can you believe they tried to get me to show them my ass? I ended up healing myself so they'd leave me alone."

Sev laughed. "I can picture it, yes," he agreed, and they made their way back to the room in comfortable amusement.

Dean stood the moment Harry walked into the room. "Good! Ron just came by and said the minister wants to see you, and he… is… _pissed_!"

Harry scowled at his longtime friend. "You're excited that my ex-boss is pissed at me? How mean."

Dean snorted and shoved Harry back out the door. "Not pissed at you, but pissed nonetheless, which is _hilarious_. Come on, you know it is."

Harry laughed halfheartedly. "I know, it is."

"So go! Go talk to him!"

Harry shrugged out of Dean's directing hands. "I'll go later. I have to…"

"Go on! I'll stay with Draco, go talk to him, go now!"

Harry scowled at Dean, then flicked a glance at Draco. He seemed content for the time being.

"Fine," he groused. "I'll go piss off the minister more."

Dean laughed. "Yes!"

Harry began to walk out the door.

"No!" Dean bellowed suddenly, and jerked Harry back. "Make him wait, that'll piss him off even more!"

Harry had to laugh. "That's true, too," he agreed. "That's a good idea. I'll give him an hour to stew."

Dean pumped the air with a fist. "Yes!

"What on _earth_ has you so excited?" Harry asked. "Severus is even in the same room and you're still happy."

Sev snarled softly at Harry while Dean chuckled. "Nothing, I'm just pleased that Fudgie-wedgie is pissed off. I love fucking with that man."

"Dean," Harry demanded sternly, his attention caught by the phrase. "What did you do?"

Dean's eyes widened dramatically, realizing what he let slip but attempting to cover with an air of innocence. "What do you mean, what did I do? I didn't do anything!"

Dean's too-innocent eyes confirmed Harry's suspicions.

"What did you do to make him try to beg me to come back?"

Draco chuckled while Dean look panicked. "I would never!" he exclaimed.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm going to see the minister," he decided, and vanished.

Sev glanced sideways at Dean. "What _did_ you do?" he asked curiously.

Dean chuckled. "The guys and gals on Harry's team, along with another thirty or so from other teams and a few commanders signed a petition saying that if Harry wasn't reinstated in two weeks, we'd all put in our resignation, effective immediately."

Sev's eyes widened and he snorted out a laugh.

Draco gaped at Dean. "He asked you not to do that!" he exclaimed.

Dean winked. "No, he just said he would simply _have_ to take the job if we did that."

Draco laughed. "So you're trapping both Harry and Fudge into Harry having the job? Neither of them are going to be very pleased with you."

Dean cackled. "Exactly! That's what's so very, very funny!"

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes at Sev. "Children," he scoffed.

Dean didn't seem to mind this observation.


	32. while strange alliances are formed

Harry was in no mood to play the calm and collected persona he usually adopted with Fudge. For once, he decided, he would let Fudge have a dose of his fury, because if anyone deserved it, it was this man.

"What do you want, you worthless sack of shit?" he snarled as soon as he walked through the door.

Fudge seemed to be just as intimidated by this attitude as the other.

"Mr. Potter," he simpered. "You'll be happy to know that I've managed to get the Daily Prophet to forgo pressing charges for your little show, and you have the full backing of the ministry in the case of yourself against Michael Bolden."

Harry narrowed his eyes on the fool. "That's so generous," he spat. "What's the catch? I kill myself?"

Fudge shook his head. "I'm arranging for you to be given your old position, Mr. Potter. With even more benefits!"

Fury licked at Harry's tongue. "Fuck you," he snarled, and turned to leave.

"No!" Fudge gasped, and rushed around the desk to catch Harry's arm. "No, Mr. Potter, please, hear me out."

Harry flicked the restraining hand off. "Fudge, let's just be honest, you don't want me to have this job because you don't respect me, and you hate that I do my job so fucking well that you can't even tell I'm doing it right unless you're watching carefully. You hound me every minute of every day for every stupid fucking thing, and you constantly breathe down my back about not following your stupid little rules. So tell me honestly what it is that's inspiring you to be so 'gracious.'"

Fudge produced the list.

"Ahh," Harry sighed, and tore the list in half. "Now what, Fudge?"

Fudge looked down at his hands. "They'll just make another," he pointed out. "And they'll actually do it, Harry. I can't lose half of my force. Please, just take the job."

"No."

Fudge actually looked as though he would cry. "Harry, be real! There's no way I can convince them you told me no. They'll think I made you turn it down, or something stupid like that."

Harry shook his head. "They know you could never make me do anything I didn't want to."

Fudge's lips twitched into a half-smile. "That's true."

Harry turned to leave, confident the subject was dropped.

"Harry, wait," Fudge insisted.

Harry glanced over his shoulder.

"Please, Harry. Listen, you want honesty? I'll give you honesty. You're the best goddamned commander I've got in this place, and these last two years we've suffered without you. We need you back, Harry, because you deserve to be here. You were born to be an auror, Harry. And I've been standing in your way because I wanted to be you. But I've learned that it's not just about whose name is in the paper, it's about whose name isn't in the obituary. It's about the lives you've saved, Harry. It kills me to say it, Harry, but it's true, and I know it, I've known it all along. I'll give you the freedoms you want, I'll stay out of your way, just please, come back on."

Harry was startled beyond words. "You're shitting me," he blurted.

Fudge lowered his eyes. "Harry, I saw what that boy looked like when he came in, and I've been keeping an eye on him. I would never have the patience to stick with it like that. You were born to help, Harry."

"Who do you mean?" Harry asked curiously.

"The Malfoy kid. Draco. He was in really bad shape. You've helped him more in such a short time than a dozen other men could help him in four times that time. You're a natural leader, Harry."

Harry couldn't help the jibe that came to his lips. "Gah, that's _really_ killing you to say, isn't it?" he asked jokingly.

Fudge exhaled heavily. "Yes, it is."

Harry nodded and studied him carefully. "You're serious? What if I promised to call off the guys who threatened to resign?"

"I'd still want you back. Just as long as we never work _together_, we can work together," he responded earnestly.

Harry was bemused. "Alright, Fudge," he sighed. "I'll take the job. I'll try to stay out of your hair if you stay out of mine."

Fudge laughed. "Considering that if you don't, then I won't have any hair left because I'll have pulled it all out: yes, I agree."

Harry snorted. "I'll have to have flexible hours because I have to dedicate a good amount of my time to helping Severus run the shop," he warned the minister.

The minister didn't seem pleased, but Harry suspected that it wasn't the hours that bothered him but the company in question. Fudge had never truly realized that Sev was in fact a good guy.

"Agreed," Fudge groused. "We'll talk more terms later. I have some…"

"Alrighty," Harry cheered, and fled the room.

* * *

He reentered the hospital room to find two very irate healers waiting for him.

"Mr. Potter!" Holly bellowed. "You know better than to just wander out of this hospital, what if something had happened to you, we had no idea where you were going, we didn't know whether you'd been taken away or whether you were just off for a jaunt around town. Don't you _ever_ run out on my watch again without alerting me! You're a patient here and as such you will _damn well_ act like one!"

Harry cowered away from the furious female. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I just… forgot I was a patient now."

"That's stupid!" she shrieked, and whacked him on the head. Hard. "If you can't remember that you're a patient then I'll _give you_ a reason to remember! Now you get into bed, you horrid child, and don't move from that bed _at all_!"

"Dean and Draco knew where I was," Harry whined halfheartedly as he clamored into his bed. "You could have just asked them."

"And what if they hadn't known? What if Draco went to take a whiz and Dean was called away? What then! You could have been stolen away and I wouldn't have known!"

Harry sighed and pressed himself further into the bed. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Don't hurt me, ma'am. I'll stay here, ma'am. You're the best healer I've ever met, ma'am."

Holly chuckled at his overzealous groveling.

"Damn straight!" she bit out, and turned her attention to Draco. "You make sure he stays put, Mr. Malfoy," she commanded.

Draco nodded, his eyes held wide to show his eagerness to agree.

She laughed at the pair. "You two are hopeless. Absolutely hopeless!"

The second the door closed behind her, Harry sat up and made as though to get out of the bed.

Draco made a sound of objection. "Ah!" he chided. "You're supposed to keep that ass of yours in that bed!"

Harry winked and strode over to Dean, his smile melting the closer he got.

"You!" he demanded coldly.

Dean cringed. "But it was funny, wasn't it?"

"Got Fudge to admit that I was damn good at my job."

Dean straightened as though electrocuted. "What?!"

Harry smirked. "I told him that I'd make sure none of you actually followed through with the threat and he said he still wanted me back, because I was the best at my job and he was suffering without me. He said I was born to lead, born to be an auror. It was… interesting, to say the least. But I'm signing back on, for now, for a little bit a week. But my number one priority _will be_ the shop. Severus and I started that together and I won't just leave him a year and a half after we opened up and started getting busy."

"You and Severus started getting busy?" Dean asked innocently.

Harry punched him in the arm. "You dirty boy, you," he chided. "I meant the shop is gaining customers quickly. People are signing up by the boatload to watch the process, they love it."

"No," Dean corrected carefully. "They love _you_."

Harry seemed confused. "What do you mean?"

"You make the hands-on potions, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "So?"

Dean rolled his eyes and looked to Draco for help. "Harry," he finally began. "You're a… how do I say it… hot piece of man-meat. Those women flock to see _you_, not the ruddy potions."

Harry shook his head. "There's guys that come, too," he objected.

Dean snorted. "Yes, Harry, those men are what we in polite society call 'homosexuals.' They're a type of man who likes to watch hot guys make potions."

Harry frowned. "That's impossible," he disagreed. "All of them can't be there just to ogle me," he insisted.

"Hell, Harry, _I'd_ go there to ogle you while you're working, and I'm not even gay."

Harry contained a snort with some difficulty. "You don't make sense."

"You should see you while you're at work," Dean insisted stubbornly. "It's like you're on fire."

"Okay, that was only that once, though, and Sev managed to put it out before it took off _all_ of my hair," he joked.

Dean studied him for a moment. "You're kidding, right?"

Harry sighed. "Alright, it was twice. But that's all!"

Dean snorted his amusement. "Seriously, though, Harry. You can't tell me you hadn't noticed the way they watch you."

Harry shook his head, bewildered.

"Harry! Come on, now! I can _always_ tell when someone's smitten. They get all doe-eyed and sweet, and… hell, Harry, it's obvious. Ask Draco."

Draco's breathing stopped. What was Dean implying?

"Draco, isn't it obvious when a chick is looking at a guy like she wants nothing more than to just slam him into a wall and kiss him?"

Draco felt himself choking on his heart, and forced a laugh through his lips. "Yeah, sure," he agreed halfheartedly.

"You feeling okay, Draco?" Dean asked, and cocked his head. "You sound sick."

Harry's eyes were drilling through Draco's mind.

"Fine," he forced out. "Just a little dry mouth," he lied.

"Oh, here, let me get you some water," Dean offered, and moved toward the pitcher by the bedside. Draco hid a wince and smiled, not sure how to break it to Dean that he couldn't drink that water without gagging on it.

"Dean," Harry chided, and shook his head. "Have you _tasted_ that water? Why on earth would you try to inflict that on poor Draco? So insensitive! Let me go get him some drinkable water from the machine downstairs."

Draco tossed him a grateful smile.

Harry was halfway down the hallway before he remembered what Holly had said, and then, he only remembered because of the furious squawk that erupted behind him.

"Harry Potter!" Holly bellowed, and Harry broke into a run instantly, dodging healers in search of good water.

He was out of breath when he returned to Draco's side with a bottle of water. He tossed the bottle to Draco and pressed his back to the door.

"Harry Potter! You had _better_ be lying down when I get into that room!" Holly threatened through the door. "You little fool!"

Draco and Dean, who had heard Holly's initial outburst, were busy laughing, and paid no mind to Harry's requests for help. Dean had moved next to Draco's bed and was halfway collapsed on it.

Harry scowled. The sight of Dean simply laughing with Draco sent a pang of jealousy through him, for which he chided himself. "A little help, here?" he begged of Dean, who simply laughed harder as the door bulged open a crack behind Harry.

Harry's eyed widened and he redoubled his efforts to keep it closed. "I'm sorry!" he yelled through the door. "I'm sorry, I forgot, I just went to get Draco some water, I've been doing that for three weeks now, it's habit, I'm sorry!"

The door bulged inward.

Harry growled at Dean, who was laughing ever harder, and bit his lip. He eyed his bed and judged how long it would take to get to it, and if he would have time to be lying down by the time the door crashed open.

He had no choice. He timed the pushes against the door and as soon as the healers pulled back to renew their efforts, Harry leapt across the room, jumping onto the foot of his bed and scrambling across it to fling himself down upon it.

His graceless antics only served to amuse Draco and Dean more.

The door exploded inward and Holly stormed in. "You have got to be kidding me, Mr. Potter!" she bellowed, and she, too, was laughing. She thumped Harry on the head repeatedly with a newspaper. "You foolish little brat, you! I swear, I ought to bind you to this bed, boy!"

Harry smiled sheepishly.

"I love you?" he whimpered.

Holly smacked him again. "Unruly little cretin!" she responded, before storming out the room.

Harry exhaled heavily. "Whew!" he exclaimed.

Then his eyes fell on Dean. He leapt to his feet and punched Dean in the arm. "You could have helped me hold the door shut, you little brat!" he accused, forcing his lips not to laugh.

Dean whined and rubbed his arm. "But Ha-arr-rry! It was so fu-nny!" he managed between bouts of laughter.

Harry snorted and threw himself back into the bed. "Suuuure it was," he drawled. "See how funny it is when I don't take the job and Fudgie gets all wedgie on _your_ ass!"

Dean winced. "No, Harry, you wouldn't!"


	33. in order to meet the needs of the people

Severus arrived just in time to intercept the healer who was going toward the pair's room. "Excuse, me, ma'am? May I have a word?"

She nodded and followed Sev away. "What is it, Mr. Snape?"

"Well, I was wondering just what is holding up Mr. Malfoy's release. He's content here for the time being, yes, because Mr. Potter has been spending all of his time here. But Harry will have to return to work eventually, and Draco will need to be permitted to return to the real world and make a life for himself. I just want to be sure that you're aware of the fact that unless you're careful, Draco could very well begin to feel as though you're holding him prisoner here, which would hurt him rather than help him."

The healer nodded her understanding. "Yes, sir, I understand that perfectly. I'm sorry about the hold-up, but we were waiting for Healer Gulewicz to report, and since he hadn't, well, we were kind of left with no options. As it stands now, if you can guarantee that Draco will return when we can locate someone to help him adjust, then I can release him into your care, if you'd like?"

Sev smiled. "That would be great," he agreed. "How soon can you manage that?"

The healer glanced at her watch. "Well, the release paperwork generally tends to take about three hours to process, and I'd have to make sure and clear the arrangement with Holly before finalizing it, so… in about three and a half hours?"

Sev smiled and gripped her arm in thanks. "That would be good, ma'am. Thank you. Now when do you think it best that Draco return to work?"

"Oh," she sighed, and bit her lip in thought. "I'm not certain, sir, we'd have to have him evaluated by a licensed…"

"Well," Sev cut in before she could finish. "I think it would be best if he was able to work in some fashion as soon as he is released. He hasn't been able to be a productive member of society for… well, ever, actually," he admitted. "Before he was taken to the House, he was forced by his father to be a Death Eater, and was never able to hold a steady job because of it. I think it would help him to adjust to be able to have something constant, such as a job, in his life. I could arrange for him to have a place on Harry's team, if you think that would be alright, so that Harry can both keep an eye on him and ensure that he has work he can handle."

The healer was nodding as she gnawed her lip. "I think that sounds reasonable," she agreed, "but I can't guarantee the others will agree. I'll talk to the other healers, they've dealt with him more directly, and they'll know the situation more fully."

Again, Sev smiled. "That would be great. Thank you."

She studied Sev's face. "I was about to go in to talk to Mr. Potter about being released," she began tentatively. "But if you'd rather, I could just… wait until tomorrow? So that Draco isn't alone?"

Sev smiled brightly. "That's alright, Harry will stick around anyway. You may release Harry whenever you wish. I hear he's been difficult to keep an eye on," he teased, and she rolled her eyes in agreement as she made her way into the room.

When he stepped into the boys' room, Harry was busy sulking while Dean entertained Draco with stories of what it was like to work for Harry. Draco seemed to enjoy the tales, though Harry was less than pleased.

"Mr. Potter, Holly has just about been fed up with you," the healer interrupted teasingly. "She's having you thrown out on your ass from this room. Now, where you choose to go after you're thrown on your ass is up to you, but Holly said she'd just like to see that, just once."

Harry laughed good naturedly. "You're a peach, Sandra," he drawled. "But I'll just skip the ass part and stick around here. I've been here for three weeks anyway," he pointed out, then grinned. "And if I'm not a patient then I'll have to go back to sleeping in that God-awful chair!"

Sandra laughed and shook her head. "No, I think I can arrange for you to keep your bed, but the paperwork's all finished for you." She turned her attention to Draco. "As for you, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Snape has just been speaking to me about your release, and I'm going to try to get it put in the works right now. It will be a while yet if it does go through, but I can't promise it will. I'll speak with the other healers and discuss what they feel would be the best option. As for that, I simply _will not_ even start the paperwork to let you out of here until I am absolutely sure you have someplace to stay. So you had better start making some calls."

"Sandra, my dear, did you really think I'd leave our poor Draco out on the streets? I can give him a wing in my home if he can't find somewhere else," Harry assured her. "So you can begin as soon as you like. Draco won't be left all alone in the big bad world, I guarantee you that."

Sandra smiled. "That'll be fine," she agreed, and then winced. "Though I hate to see just how horribly you can corrupt the poor boy."

Harry let out an indignant squawk. "Oi! That's not very nice," he objected. "I'm a perfectly good influence on the youth of today."

Sandra simply stared.

"Okay, well, a kinda okay influence."

She cocked a brow.

"Okay, fine. I'll try not to corrupt Draco," he meekly promised.

* * *

Severus left with Sandra to speak to the other healers about Draco's release, and Dean had to report back to work. Harry was just burrowing into his pillows to catch a wink of sleep when Draco spoke softly. 

"Did you… did you mean that? What you said about… about me staying with you?"

Harry sat up to look Draco in the eye. "Of course I did. I would be happy to have you crash at my place if you have nowhere you'd rather be. By all means if there's somewhere else you want to be, then I'd be happy to help you get there, but don't worry if you can't. I've got a pretty acceptably large house and though it used to serve as headquarters for my gang of hooligan aurors, and probably will again, I suppose, now that I've taken my job back, it's pretty peaceful most of the time."

Draco smiled. "I would like that," he agreed. "Even when the hooligans are afoot."

Something in Draco's voice made Harry cock his head, but he refrained from asking what he wanted to for fear of not being able to deliver. Draco had sounded wistful and something else, Harry had detected a hint of longing in his soft voice. Did Draco want to be a part of Harry's crew? Harry wondered silently. The idea pleased him, and he promised himself that he would find a way to make it happen if Draco hinted that he wanted a position.

"Yeah," Harry sighed as he dropped back into his pillows. "They're pretty fun to be around most of the time," he agreed.

Draco smiled, and kept his thoughts to himself. What he wouldn't give to be a member of Harry's legendary Team Alpha.

Or even a member of Team Beta, a group of six men who were Harry's research gurus.

Or even Team Gamma, a group of three who made up Harry's 'official documents' team.

Or even…

Harry's famous detachment had long ago been dubbed Team Alphabet, as a tribute to the many, many teams it contained.

Draco smiled at the very idea. Though he wasn't sure just exactly what a typical day as one of Harry's aurors was comprised of, he was interested to find out. Dean's stories had only heightened Draco's interest, and he longed to find out firsthand just what peculiar misadventures he could get into as a member of Harry's team.

If only, he pondered as his gaze traveled to Harry's face.

The thought came abruptly to Draco's mind what would have happened had Sev not interrupted and woken Harry.

His lips curved into a smile just thinking about it. Harry's lips were even softer than he had ever imagined. Though he was glad he had not had to go through the humiliation of Harry trying to let him down gently, he couldn't help but wonder…

What if Harry wouldn't have turned him down?

What if Harry had returned his kiss?

What if Harry wanted him just as much as he wanted Harry?

Draco relaxed against the pillows with his eyes still trained on Harry. He had reacted against his better judgment in kissing Harry, but his mind was suddenly wild with the thought of what could have happened.

Draco imagined that he had felt Harry's lips moving against his own. He imagined Harry's vibrant eyes flickering open in surprise as Draco curled his fingers in Harry's hair to deepen the pressure of the kiss. He imagined Harry's breath catching and his eyes sliding closed once again, in pleasure. He imagined sliding his lips down Harry's chin to nibble on that delectable neck.

Draco's mind screeched to a halt with that thought.

What, exactly, would come then?

What if he did manage to start a relationship with Harry?

What would happen when Harry wanted to advance their relationship?

How would Draco be able to have a normal sex life with Harry if his memories kept getting in the way? He knew that Harry was an incredibly patient man, but would he be able to put up with Draco's insecurities where sex was concerned? Would Harry be able to sit patiently by while Draco struggled through the issues two months of torture involving sex and pain gave him? Would Harry be able to understand why Draco could never possibly dream of having a normal sex life? He would never be able to engage in many of the things the men had done to him.

What did that leave?

Draco's eyes filled as reality slammed down upon him. He was spoiled goods, and nobody, nobody at all, would ever be able to accept that. Who would work with Draco to put up with his insecurities and his memories and his pain, when they could simply go elsewhere and have a perfectly normal relationship with someone less tormented? Why would anyone put up with Draco's unwillingness to engage in sexual activity of any kind when they could simply find someone, someone whole and healthy and good, and be with them instead?

Draco's watery eyes slammed closed and his memories and imaginings overcame him.

He would never be able to have a normal relationship, he realized dismally.

And when he opened his eyes again, he realized that he didn't want to, not really, unless the green-eyed beauty suddenly standing over his bed with eyes full of concern ever looked at him as more than a broken doll. More than a friend or a charity case.

Harry smoothed a hand over Draco's hair, pressing it away from his face. Wordlessly, he slid into the bed beside the blond and pulled him close. Draco buried his head in Harry's shoulder and wept.

_Why can't you be more than my hero? _

_Why don't you want me for more than a friend?_

_Why am I only a charge of the ministry of magic to you?_

Draco wasn't sure where the thoughts were coming from. He had only once wanted something so badly as he did in that moment. He had rarely wanted anything desperately, besides being freed from Drowry's clutches. And now that he was, he was able to concentrate on the next best thing.

Draco imagined, as he cried himself to sleep in Harry's arms once more, that he saw Harry's eyes shining down at him in love.


	34. Freedom can be a frightful beast

_**A/N: Sorry for the criminally short chappie, here, it's getting pretty late. :-(**_

* * *

Harry wandered.

Ron had come to the hospital knowing that Harry had not had time away in some time, and had insisted that Harry try to relax outside of the confines of the hospital room. Harry had had to admit that the weeks of being in the room were beginning to wear on him, and only worried that Draco was beginning to feel the same way. But the healers had suggested that Draco would be released very soon, and the idea relieved Harry's worry.

When Sev had barged into the room, the slumbering pair had not had nearly enough sleep. So it only made sense that Draco was still exhausted, as the previous day had worn him out. The stress, the exertion, the worry. And Harry had been nearly dead on his feet the previous day; it was no comfort at all to have gotten so little sleep. His limbs still dragged at him like useless weights sewn into his flesh, and yet he found himself unable to sleep. Something about seeing Draco silently crying had wrenched his heart and mind in a way he never would have imagined. He had nearly been asleep when something had alerted him to Draco's silent misery, and he had been drawn to the blonde's side like a man possessed. He had steeled himself for Draco's miserable whimpers though it pained him terribly to see the blonde in pain.

But the silver wells of misery that had shined up at him from Draco's face had unnerved him. He could see something beyond the pain of his memories in those silvery eyes, and had been unable to discern what.

A tiny, terribly selfish part of him had imagined that Draco had looked at him with longing.

Yet logic told him that the opposite was true. His mind replayed his conversation with Severus endlessly, and he couldn't get the thought out of his head that Draco had guessed his interest and meant to repay his rescuer with his body. The boy had been imprisoned in a world where men went to treat themselves to his pain as a reward for a hard day, or as a way to relax. Draco had had men fuck him to relieve themselves after a day of stress, had had men fill him with their seed to escape their reality.

What if Draco thought the only way he could repay Harry was by allowing Harry to take pleasure from his submission?

Harry wanted to hurl with the very thought. Not only would he never be interested in Draco if the blonde only sought to repay his debt, but he knew without a doubt that even if Draco showed genuine interest in Harry, he would never, _ever_ be able to dominate the blonde. He would never dream of putting him in that position.

And it wasn't only because he was sure Draco would not be able to enjoy it.

His own memories of Draco's imprisonment forbade it.

He apparated to the ministry, knowing one way to distract himself from his self-imposed imprisonment. He made his way to the training room he had had put in for use by the aurors, which contained magical items as well as muggle ones.

One of the rooms, which Harry had designed himself, appeared at first glance to be perfectly innocuous.

In it was a sole punching bag.

It was the largest one available, hanging by chains from the ceiling so that it almost reached the floor. It weighed a considerable amount, and scarcely wiggled when an average punch was thrown at it.

Harry carefully taped his hands and sloughed out of his shirt. He produced a sliver of thick black fabric and tied it carefully around his eyes.

He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment before exploding into movement.

* * *

Sev practically danced into the room "Three more questions for you, Draco darling," he purred.

Draco cocked a sleepy brow. "Sir?"

"You remember the rules of the game, don't you?" Sev asked, and the blonde remembered his uncle's strange game.

"Sure," he agreed, sitting up groggily. "Shoot."

"Neville just bought a house. Neville is moving into that house with his parents, who are recently cured. Neville just killed a nearby baby."

Draco looked sick at the last. "Don't care, want, don't want," he answered easily.

Sev grinned. "Well, goodie, because the first two are true, and the last is not. Isn't that fun?"

Draco's snort was the only answer.

"Now… here's a tricky one," Sev warned him. "The healers said you're getting out of here now. The healers insist that you check in twice a week so that they may keep tabs on you. The healers think it best that you get a job soon so that you can keep yourself busy."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Want, don't want, don't care," he replied.

Sev cocked his head. "Okay, then, one more. The healers think a job as a garbage man will be healthy for you. The healers think a job as a muggle zoo keeper will be healthy for you. The healers think that working as a member of Harry's detachment will be healthy for you."

Draco didn't let himself hope. Surely, it wasn't possible? But surely Sev wouldn't mention it if there wasn't some possibility..?

"Don't want, don't care, want," he said with surety.

Sev smiled. "You're in luck again," he replied. "Because I've arranged for you to be hired on at the ministry as part of Harry's detachment. Now, where he places you in that category is entirely up to him, but I'm sure he'll keep you somewhere safe for now. As for your release, that, too, is true. As is the checking in twice a week."

Draco couldn't stop grinning despite the fact that he would have to keep returning to this awful place. "I'll be in Harry's detachment?" he reiterated gleefully.

Sev nodded once, and Draco managed to grin even more widely.

"Awesome! Thank you, Uncle Sev!" he gushed.

Severus couldn't help but smile back at the suddenly exuberant youth. "I'm glad you're pleased," he replied. "Now, let's get you out of here."

"Now?!" Draco squeaked suddenly, and his eyes flicked to the door in search of Harry.

"He's at the ministry," Sev answered the unasked question. "I'm sorry, Draco, that he's not here. I'm sure the time just got away from him. He's probably just doing some training. It helps him think."

Draco felt his exuberance slipping. "Sure, okay," he replied. "That's understandable."

He knew his uncle was not convinced.

He forced a smile. "Well, I guess I'll just… I'll just… find a place to keep myself busy until Harry is…"

Sev snorted. "You will not. Harry will want to know immediately that you've been released. You should go see him at the ministry. I can almost guarantee that he'll be in his training room. Just ask one of the aurors there where that is, they'll point you in the right direction.

Draco bit his lip and nodded. "Alright, thank you, uncle."

Suddenly his eyes fell to the flimsy gown covering him.

"Dean has lent you some clothes," Sev piped up, again answering a question not spoken. "He says they'll probably be big on you but you'll probably be able to get some new ones soon so it doesn't matter."

Draco's smile was slightly warmer. "Tell him I said thank you," he requested of Sev, who nodded.

"Now, to the ministry with you!" he insisted.

Draco worried his lip. "Can we stop by Father's old house, first?"


	35. yet fear can be a catalyst for healing

_**A/N: Hopefully this chapter gives y'all something to review about, since I haven't been getting many reviews at all. (I don't like the number three lol) But that's ok. It's not like I'm going to stop writing, I'm just going to be unhappy. :-D**_

**_Love ya! Enjoy!_**

* * *

His fists struck against the sand-filled fabric furiously, his entire body contributing to each powerful blow. He practiced a few complex maneuvers against the immovable object before spinning furiously to slam his extended foot into the sandbag which had fallen at his back. 

The room was spelled so that the bags appeared at random intervals and times, never in the same place at the same time as before, so that not only his strength and stamina were tested, but his body's reaction to sudden confrontation and his ability to sense the appearance thereof without being able to watch for it.

He twisted out of the way as a smaller sandbag arched through the air toward his head. He retaliated immediately, his right leg lashing out to knock it off its path. His body rolled into a second attack, this time at a fourth bag, and suddenly a tiny silver dagger arched through the air, aimed perfectly at his throat.

He twisted into a backbend and had to complete a full flip to avoid the sword that appeared beneath him to slash his Achilles tendons.

The sandbags were only the warm-up. The blades, which within moments were whirling at Harry as fast as he could duck beneath them, leap over them, or knock them aside--which was extremely fast-- were only the second round.

Very corporeal men began to appear at various points in the room. They were of course only illusions, yet the blows they threw at Harry were very much solid, and his fists connected with them solidly as well.

His limbs seemed to work independently of each other as they annihilated the threats. His arms lashed through complex attacks while his legs bunched and assaulted. The exhaustion he had felt previously was washed away beneath the adrenaline of his training.

He had continued to use this room in private long after he had quit the ministry. It was one of the only places which allowed him to escape every worry and simply focus on the sensation of controlling himself and slamming his concerns into the faces of his enemies. The thrill of exertion and relying only on his senses to sweat out his frustrations was more relaxing by far than simply sitting still.

By the end of his training session more than thirty men had appeared, each bearing swords or wands or guns. They worked as a team and methodically attempted to shred Harry to ribbons. The blades, where they touched the flesh of a training wizard, actually cut, though they were programmed not to follow through with fatal wounds. However, they were not programmed not to injure.

Harry was the only auror who could make it through an entire session -- three hours-- in this particular room with not a scratch on him, and the only auror who didn't have to remove the blindfold after the first hour.

His heart was pounding by the time the illusions were defeated, and sweat beaded on his skin, slithering with a vengeance down his arms and chest. He tossed the sweaty blindfold aside and snagged a towel from beside the door to run it across his bare chest. His eyes scanned the room critically. A few dozen blades of various sizes littered the room around him, and the sandbags had been annihilated. They swung violently on their chains, and a few were spilling sand where a wayward blade had dashed them open.

* * *

His father had changed nothing. 

Draco felt his heart trip over itself. He stood gazing into the open doorway of his childhood haven, his room. His room was still the same as it had always been; his parents, though they had disowned him, had changed nothing.

"Probably too much of a bother to," he groused bitterly to himself, not deluding himself into thinking that his parents' actions meant anything beyond the superficial.

Severus stood back respectfully as Draco tentatively strode into the familiar space. His fingertips grazed his old belongings reverently, barely touching, vividly remembering. His gaze followed the hesitant path his fingers marked.

"It's weird," he murmured. His gaze flicked to Severus, who was just outside the doorway. Shaken from his contemplation, he forced his memories aside. "I just need to grab one thing," he told Severus.

Severus raised a brow. "Only one? You do not wish to…"

"None of this is mine, none of this was ever mine. I'm not their son anymore. They gave all of this _crap_ to their beloved drone." Draco had to struggle to stamp down his rising fury and hatred. His parents had tried to make him just like them. His parents had never cared for him; they had cared only for their reputation.

Severus inclined his head respectfully. "Of course," he agreed. "You overcame their influence. You are no longer theirs."

Draco smirked grimly. "Exactly. I only want that which was given to me, truly to me."

Sev bowed slightly. "I will wait outside," he promised, then vanished from the doorway.

Draco made his way carefully to his old Hogwarts trunk and knelt before it, his nimble fingers carefully throwing the latch and opening the protesting lid. He moved aside his school books and his fingers found their way directly to that which he sought. Time had not dimmed his memory of where he kept the tiny object; he pulled it from its cushioned box and slipped it into his pocket without a second glance.

He sat back on his heels and glanced around the room, allowing himself to truly look at it.

His gaze flicked to the doorway, which was open and empty; he felt his shoulders slump in disappointment and shook his head, furious with himself, when he realized that he had so hoped to see Harry standing there.

Draco turned from the doorway, willing himself not to be impacted by his memories. Memories of his childhood danced before his eyes. In his youth, he had come to this room as a haven from his father's criticism, both physical and mental. He had felt connected with this room, had felt at home within this room.

It had all been a lie.

His eyes traveled the room distastefully. He wondered how he had ever deluded himself into thinking of it as _his _room. It was just another reflection of his father's cruel influence; the room was designed and decorated to suit the taste of his father.

He remembered the last time he had lain eyes on this room. He had left his father's home the moment he had come of age; his father had not been able to stand his presence any longer. So Draco had packed his bags and abandoned his "home." Yet despite the bitterness that had been swelling within his heart, he had been unable to resist pausing in the doorway and looking back at that which he had for his entire life seen as his true home. His gaze had lovingly taken in every last detail of his room, his haven.

It felt as though no time had passed as Draco once again looked upon the room.

Draco's eyes glared about the sickeningly Slytherin room. His father's influence was as strong now as it had been years ago. The room, as ever, was uncluttered and precise. Everything from the drapes to the wardrobe was always in perfect form. His father had been as harsh and unforgiving in regards to his son's room as he was in regards to his behavior.

Tortured silver eyes took in every perfect detail of the room. This had been his father's domain, just like the rest of the house. His father had come and gone as he pleased; there were no locks that could keep out the master of the house. And his father had paid Draco's room a visit often, especially when he was drunk.

Draco shook those bitter memories away. His mind was a torment of emotion as he struggled to forget. His hatred for his father and the Dark Lord battled within him, his thoughts damning him and reminding him of who he was.

A worthless death eater.

Draco sat heavily upon his bed and dropped his head into his hands. Tears appeared and streamed freely down his cheeks as he struggled against a burgeoning hatred of self. His memories of who he had become for all those years working for the bastard of the century welled within him.

This room was yet another reminder of how much he had allowed his sick father to control him.

Bitterness and fury sprang to life in his mind, effectively tamping down his self-pity and -hatred. He allowed himself to feel those burning emotions for the first time in a long time -- allowed himself to remember the hatred he had held for his father and his "master," permitted himself to wallow in the agony of fury, _urged _himself to stew in his rage.

It felt better than the docile numbness he had nurtured for so long.

All at once his emotions reached their zenith. He leapt to his feet and slammed his fist into the wall, his fury rippling out in waves and shattering all of the glass in his room; he drew his wand, slashing it in a furious arch throughout the room. Flames leapt to life from its tip, spilling across the drapes and bed sheets.

"I'm not you, father!" he screamed over the sudden roar of the flames. They licked merrily across the bed, swelling quickly to engulf the wardrobe. He swept his hands across the nearest shelves, scattering trinkets and books in his fury and tossing many of them directly onto the flames. The wooden shelves buckled beneath his onslaught; he heaved the huge wooden structure from its feet and threw it bodily across the room. It smashed against the wall with a thunderous crash and fell amid the flames.

"You lose, father! You tried to make me _just… like… you_! But you _failed_! I'll never be you! YOU FAILED! How does it feel? How does it feel to be the failure! _Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking failure!_ You are _nothing_! You are no father, you are no master, you were never anything! You waste of space, you _son of a bitch_!"

His wand flicked about ceaselessly, throwing more and more of his old belongings into the flames. Photographs of his parents, of himself as a sneering youth, a 'family' portrait. All of it was soon in a heap against the far wall, a smoldering wealth of flames and a shattered childhood.

"You're nothing," Draco murmured ceaselessly, a repetition and a mantra to himself and his father. "You're nothing to me. You're nothing."

His fury spent and scarcely anything left, he fell to his knees, eyes glued to the leaping and rapidly spreading flames, all emotion and all thought fleeing. He watched in fascination as the flames swept across the floor, licking ever closer to him.

Severus, having barely been able to restrain himself from interrupting the boy's tirade, swept into the room and jerked his godson back.

"Are you mad! Get out of here!" Severus snarled, pulling Draco away furiously.

"Nothing," Draco murmured, and Severus barely resisted the urge to hit him round the head.

"Draco Malfoy, get a hold of yourself!"

Instantly Draco's ire returned, hot as the flames. "I… AM… NOT… A… MALFOY!" He screamed, jerking himself from Sev's arms and shoving the elder wizard back. "Don't call me that name! Don't you ever call me that again!"

Severus steadied himself with effort. "Draco…"

Draco's fury dimmed only slightly as he realized who he was addressing.

"Do you understand me?" he growled, a low rumble of sound. "I am not a Malfoy, I am not like him, I am _not him_!"

"I know that, Draco. I know you aren't. I know. We all know."

Draco shook his head as tears coursed unheeded down his cheeks. "You don't understand," he insisted. "He…"

Severus took a hesitant step forward. "Draco. Please. We have to get out of here before the fire spreads."

Draco cocked his head. "You're not going to try to put it out?"

Sev met his eyes levelly. "No."

"Why not?" Draco's voice held youthful curiosity all of a sudden. "You aren't going to tell me I'm being irrational?"

Sev smiled grimly. "I doubt it would do much good. Besides, there is a lot of darkness within these walls that could stand to be destroyed."

Draco shook his head and his gaze traveled to the fire. "This has nothing to do with that."

Sev took a wary step forward. "I know that, Draco. I didn't say only the _objects _here needed destruction."

Silver eyes met his, confused.

"Your father's memory resides in these walls. He does not deserve to be remembered."

Draco bit his lip and nodded.

"Draco, please, let's get out of here."

The walls began to groan under the pressure of the spreading flames, and Draco shot the room a final glare before allowing Sev to grasp his hand and apparate them out.


	36. in light of the past and unsteady future

_********_

A/N: First of all: I am SO SORRY!

See, I've learned: Life sucks. Sure, that's a fact of life. But when life sucks especially hard I get terrible blocks. I'm sorry this one was so long!

Bad depression! Bad, bad, bad! You made my readers wait forever! And just after someone had thanked me for updating regularly. I am truly, truly sorry. Lemme go beat my issues with a stick so they'll go away and LET ME WRITE!

Secondly: In response to a few unsigned reviews:

dreamweaver: I'm glad I've made you like my story, even though you don't usually read this type of thing. I take that as a huge compliment :-) I love swaying people from their norms:-) Hope you keep enjoying it!

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Answers: You've raised a few good issues, and I appreciate you pointing them out, it means you're paying close attention! ;-) . I'm really sorry if it seems I've taxed my "poetic license" to the max, I'm a whore for drama and angst so I tend to let magic in these stories take me away beyond rational and logically realistic (even more so than magic itself it seems lol). I'll try to stop, since I concede to your point insofar as the emotions regarding Draco's imprisonment are concerned. On the other hand, I can't say I can agree with your first point (about Draco being the sub). We'll see how the story goes. And your second point about Draco being skittish (sorry if it seems I'm rambling) is also very true. You'll see soon how Draco reacts when he's no longer in Harry's sight. :-)Thanks again!

Hope you all enjoy! Please review!

* * *

Harry was stopped short by the sudden apparation of Draco and Severus. His eyes took in the worry in Severus's eyes and the unease in Draco's stance, and wondered at it, concerned. 

"Are you okay?" he was unable to contain himself from asking. Draco's eyes were startled as they looked up at Harry.

"Fine," he answered automatically.

Harry's eyes flicked to Severus, who in turn looked to Draco. Harry returned his attention to the blonde. "What happened?" he asked gently.

Draco tossed a glare to Severus before shaking his head. "Nothing," he answered shortly. "They let me out of the hospital. Thank you for bringing me _here_, Sev."

Sev's lips twitched slightly, amused by the presence and implications of Draco's discomfort. "I'm sorry, Draco. I thought this is where you needed to be."

Draco curled his lip in disdain. "You would," he groused. "You _know_…" he caught his words on the tip of his tongue and forced them back down his throat. Glancing at Harry, he forced himself to appear calm. "May we be excused, Potter?" the words were clipped and impatient, a command from master to servant, though Draco didn't even notice.

Harry was startled by the chill in the blonde's voice, as well as more than a little hurt at being addressed so coldly. He nodded curtly and forced himself to walk calmly from the room, his back ramrod straight.

Sev's amusement fled as he watched the insecurity and pain flicker to life in Harry's eyes, and he rounded on the blonde with fury in his mind as the door clicked closed behind the raven-haired youth. "Draco, it's _my_ fault you're here before you've regained your poise, you have no reason to take your ire out on _him_."

Draco's curled lip twitched higher. "Why did you bring me here, Severus, I didn't want to disrupt his day as it is, and now… now…"

"Now you didn't want Harry to see you upset. I get that. But ordering him off like a child is no way to resolve that."

"I did _not _'order him off,'" Draco snapped. "I simply asked to speak to you privately."

"You're a fool if you think that's how Harry saw it."

"Nor does it change the fact that you brought me here," Draco pressed.

"I thought you would want to see him," Severus defended himself.

Draco ignored the fact that his every nerve was in fact screaming to feel Harry's arms around him, annoyed that Sev could see through him. "You thought wrong," he lied. "I'm done crying to him."

"You intend to stop associating with Harry?" Severus exclaimed, shocked that Draco would want such a thing. He had thought…

"No!" Draco exploded. "I _need_ Harry!" The words were out before he could stop them, so he decided not to bother trying. "I just don't want him to see me blubbering like a little idiot _yet again_."

Severus rolled his eyes. "You aren't blubbering. If anything you seem pissed beyond belief, and there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, you're in the perfect place to vent, in case you haven't noticed. I'm certain the breakable things in your room were broken far too quickly for your tastes."

Draco's eyes flicked about the room. The bags had repaired themselves and the room had in a way started itself over; it was once again at the beginning of a training session, with a sole large bag dangling in the center.

Draco felt himself tense in anticipation at the very thought of it.

"Could I?" he asked, and Sev's amusement returned. Draco was like a kid in a candy shop when it came to training.

"Of course," Sev allowed, and instantly Draco had shucked his shirt and transfigured his jeans into something more appropriate to train. Sev hung back as he approached the bag, his stance still vibrating fury and frustration due to the memories of his father.

Sev sighed and turned away as Draco began to stretch and warm up. "Meanwhile," he murmured under his breath, his concern for Harry rising once more. "I'll go try to fix the mess you've made of Harry's self-esteem."

* * *

He was slouched on one of the benches in the hallway, his head in his hands; his slouched shoulders straightened with a jolt as he heard the door slide open, then immediately fell again as he saw Sev exit alone. 

"He… he left?" Harry asked, his voice catching and fading out. Had Draco changed his mind about staying with Harry? Had he decided to live elsewhere? Was he angry at Harry for some reason? "What did I do?" he couldn't help but implore, confused and hurt.

Sev smiled comfortingly. "He's still inside, he wants to train for a bit."

Harry's tension melted out of him. "Oh," he sighed.

"I'm not sure whether he wanted me to tell you, but he went by the manor," he began. When Harry still seemed baffled, he realized that Harry would assume he meant Potter Manor, Harry's home.

"Malfoy Manor," he explained.

Harry tensed. "Why?"

"He wanted to retrieve something. I don't know what. But he… it upset him to be in that place again."

Harry dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. "How badly?"

Sev bit his lip for a moment. "Don't be surprised in the morning when they find a smoldering pile of ash where Malfoy Manor used to stand."

Harry's eyes flew wide. "You're kidding. He _burned it down_?"

Sev nodded once.

Harry's eyes flicked to the doorway through which Sev had come. "That bad, huh?"

Sev blew out a heavy breath and sat next to Harry. "He was only upset when we got here because he didn't want you to see him so furious. He was a mess, to be honest. He broke everything made of glass and shred everything he was able. He physically smashed a two-hundred-year-old shelving unit that probably weighed an elephant's ass. I knew he hadn't really been able to vent entirely so I brought him here, but apparently he wasn't too pleased with that."

"So he isn't…" Harry shook himself and changed his mind. "Never mind. Should I talk to him? Or just leave him be?"

Sev shrugged and shook his head. "I honestly haven't a clue. That would be up to you. I think beating the shit out of the bags will relax him some. I will never understand your type, how in the world wearing yourselves out energizes you and calms you."

Harry snorted a laugh. "I don't know either," he agreed. He chewed his lip for a moment before rolling his eyes and giving in to temptation. He stood from the bench and strolled to the door. Flicking the switch beside the doorjamb he stepped back as the covering to the window rolled open.

The rooms were designed to allow a trainer to monitor the trainee during these sessions, and since his presence in the room would disrupt the focus of the spells, the designers had taken a page out of police stations and created a viewing window along one wall of the room. Unlike police stations, however, there was no mirrored side; from the inside of the room it was simply a blank wall, as it was distracting for a trainee to see either himself or the trainer.

Harry felt himself practically melt after only a few moments of watching Draco train. The blonde had spectacular form; he was naturally lithe and graceful, and his every movement vibrated with power and intensity. He managed to create a beautiful combination of brute strength and control; his every movement was careful and measured, with the force of a semi and the speed of a Ferrari. Though his body and coordination were dimmed by his years out of practice, his movements were still beautiful to behold.

Harry only snapped out of his appreciative stupor when Sev clucked his tongue beside him. "He's damn good for someone who hasn't seen the inside of a gym for two years," he observed, impressed.

Harry snapped his mouth closed audibly. "Damn good is one way to say it. Fuckin' _amazing_ would be another. He hasn't worked out _whatsoever_ in two years. That's… insane. He's damn near better than half the guys, and they've had access to these rooms this whole time."

Sev winced as an errant bag smacked into Draco's unprotected back. "He's really out of practice, though. Can he handle this room?"

Harry bit his lip. "Not for long. None of the guys can. I don't want him getting cut."

As though summoned, a tiny, speeding dagger spun from its hold in the wall and arched toward the unprotected back of the blonde. Even knowing that the dagger wouldn't follow through with the blow, Harry tensed and lunged for the door.

He snatched it open in time to see Draco spin, his arm lashing out to slap the dagger from the air. He was an instant too slow, however, and it sliced a nick in his side before vanishing.

He hissed a startled and furious breath through his teeth and his hands stalled. For the next few moments his every movement was altered by that moment of hesitation; he was an instant too late to block the remaining blows. Panic because of his inability to defend himself welled within him; his lips pulled back from his teeth and his movements became more harsh and uncontrolled, only lending to the predicament.

Harry snapped his hand out and halted the room's enchantment. The bags and swords vanished instantly, and Draco snarled as his furious swing toward one of the blades swept air.

"Damnit, Potter, what did you do that for?" Draco hissed. The words were grated between his teeth, and this time, he did notice his err. He winced and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he immediately backtracked, chagrin at having once again treated his friend so coldly rising within him and tamping down his anger. "I didn't mean it like that. I just… I'm sorry. What is it you need?"

Harry raised a single brow in challenge. "You look like you need help getting back into shape," he responded, a half-smile gracing his lips.

Instantly Draco smirked and dropped to a crouch, affecting an oppositional air. "Do I?" he challenged.

"You're hopelessly out of shape," Harry pointed out mock snidely, and strode forward, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"You're here to re-train me, then?"

Harry smiled gently. "If you want me to," he agreed, sensing that very desire, for Harry to become his trainer, behind Draco's bravado. For a moment, the image slipped, and Draco winked playfully at his new trainer.

"Well, then, let's get going," he suggested.

Harry took a few moments to stretch, his eyes never leaving Draco, who had resumed motion to keep his muscles active.

Harry snapped into action, and Draco immediately blocked. Taking a moment to appreciate the effectiveness of Draco's block -- he had exerted only enough effort to swipe Harry's attack to the side -- Harry reared back with another blow.

"Let's take things from the top," he suggested as Draco neatly blocked another strike. "Just focus on relearning how to move your body."

Draco nodded, his focus on Harry's limbs.

"I know you know all of these moves, but you haven't used them in years. You have to focus…"

Harry feinted a right twist but followed through with a left. Draco's lack of coordination and intense focus on Harry's movement stalled him; the blow fell, softly, on Draco's shoulder.

He hissed in frustration.

"Draco, calm down. You're allowed to take a few hits when you're relearning these things. But you have to focus on _yourself_, too. Don't zero in so much on me. I'm just a target, you have to let your body _feel_ where I'll be and how to react."

Draco forced himself to swallow his frustrated pride and nodded.

Harry smiled reassuringly as he executed a few simple strikes, which Draco easily deflected, to rebuild the blonde's confidence.

"Focus on your own feet," Harry suggested coolly. He lunged, but didn't follow through, and watched as Draco's feet responded almost perfectly. "Until you relearn how to, not to sound cheesy but -- _be one --_ with your body, you have to focus as much on yourself and where your body is moving as me. You can't block a blow you see coming unless you have your body aligned with mine. To block an overhead strike…" he prepared for an overhead, but instead struck with a low kick, which Draco neatly predicted and swept aside. "You have to have your hands in position. Well done, Draco," he commended.

Draco tossed him a smile.

"And when you come into these rooms, even if you feel like you just want to vent, you have to _feel _the room. Otherwise you're just setting yourself up to being torn to ribbons."

"The room will..?"

"Not completely. But it will hurt you. It's spelled not to follow through, but it's not foolproof."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Good to know," he groused, messily sweeping aside the next of Harry's advances. "As though having _people_ out to get me wasn't enough, now even the _rooms_ are."

Harry barked a surprised laugh and shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his face. Draco couldn't help but muse how adorable Harry looked when his hair was mussed…

…except when he used Draco's momentary distraction to launch an effective attack.

Draco cursed.

Harry laughed and ran Draco through the paces of a battle to gauge his strength, speed, and stamina, finding that though the blonde faired well relative to a novice, his imprisonment and starvation had left a lasting effect on his body in the form of sluggish reactions and weakened blows.

However when it came down to the reality of Draco's extensive imprisonment, Harry was surprised by how little the blonde had been affected.

Harry finally relented once Draco seemed as though he had spent his fury. His rash reactions and frustration at being struck unawares relented until he was properly docile to the recommendations Harry offered and reacted accordingly. Harry worked him until he no longer reacted with fury and frustration to defeat his opponent, instead striking with deliberation and poise.

Harry was silently pleased with himself for having been able to work the fury from the blonde without actually having to fight it out. He knew from experience that his men, when furious, either had to vent through beating the daylights out of an opponent -- or, Harry mused, getting the daylights beat out of themselves in the process -- or by succumbing to Harry's patient scolding until rational thought returned. He had been on the receiving end of both reactions too many times to count, and was pleased that he had guessed right in Draco's case.

There was an exhilarated smile on Draco's lips by the time Harry called a halt to their training, and Harry was for a moment ensnared by the beauty of that delicate curve of lips. He had to shake himself loose from his longing to kiss the blonde, but only succeeded in drawing Draco's curious gaze. Sweat beaded generously on his skin, causing his long hair to mold to his neck and cheeks. Harry found himself frozen.

"I know, I know," Draco crowed, his voice raised to mimic dismay. "I'm so out of shape I'm sweating like a thief in church. I know!"

Harry forced a chuckle between his lips, thankful that Draco had only spared him a glance, knowing that had Draco looked harder, he would have seen the obvious desire in Harry's eyes.

Harry curled his hands into fists and dropped his head.

_Sick. Sick bastard_, he swore, hating himself for being turned on by such a simple thing as training with the blonde.

_How the hell are you going to manage to train him if you feel this out of control after just one session? He's going to notice your interest eventually, you fool. _

Draco's flippant smile faded as he observed the tension in Harry's arms and shoulders. "Hey," he murmured, reaching to tip Harry's chin up. "What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"

Harry forced himself to shake of his self-deprecation. "No, nothing's wrong. Just tired. I had just finished a pretty intense session in this room before you got here. You've just about worn me out!"

Draco snorted. "I have a feeling it'd take a lot more than little old me to wear _you_ out, Potter."

Harry's step faltered for only a moment.

_Potter_?

Since when did Draco call him _Potter_ again?

His mind flicked back over the last half hour in an attempt to remember. Draco had been calling him Potter since he'd come from Malfoy Manor. Harry had assumed that it was simply due to the lingering remnants of anger and frustration, but Draco was no longer upset.

So why was he calling him Potter?


	37. when old habits refuse to die

_**A/N: I know! I know! But I'm having difficulties working this part out, I didn't intend to have some particular scenes in here, and adding them is has been hell! I'm sorry I've been so irregular, I promise it'll pick back up VERY SOON! I am finally picking up the thread of where I had hoped to be by now, and I'm sorry this chapter is short but I want you guys to pester me about it! Please, give me a hard time so I'll know you guys are still interested and I'll feel guilty that I haven't been following through! Make me feel guilty, and I'll write for you! Like poking me with a stick but from over there. So let me know that I've been a mean mean person for not giving you guys what I promised, and I'll have to buckle down! I've been having a block but if i get some inspiration, who knows!**_

_**Show me you care, and review! Thank yall!**_

**_Oh, and as a side note: a warning, Harry's going to be pretty touchy for a bit, and emotional, most likely. As much as Draco needed him, he has come to need Draco to need him, and Draco's independent streak and attitude problems coming up and just a bit ago are really going to get to poor Harry. He's a hero at heart, and became dependent on the idea that Draco needed him. So be aware, Harry's going to be a big softy for the next few chapters! Sorry!_**

**_Oh, and Answers: I totally agree on your first point. Now we're getting somewhere with this ;o) And your idea of Harry and Draco sitting around in pjs around a fire is just TOO CUTE! _**

**_Thank you all for your continued support!_**

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* * *

Draco sighed in tired relief as he sank into the plush couch Harry finally let him sink into. The stubborn brunette had insisted on running Draco through a cool-down session to prevent his body from cramping after their rigorous training, disregarding Draco's insistence that he didn't care whether he was sore, he was tired _now_.

Harry snorted at the look on Draco's face, amused by the blonde's antics.

"Never again!" he swore, amusement glittering in his silver eyes and softening the potential offence in the words. "Never again am I trusting my body in your hands! You are my trainer NO MORE! You… are… _**evil**_!"

Harry chuckled, refusing to acknowledge the mental image of Draco's body in his hands that automatically sprang to mind. "You're such a drama queen," he shot back. "You know you love it."

"Love being pushed beyond physical ability? Right. It's right up there with… with… with… oh, bloody hell, just imagine I said something very witty right there."

Harry let out a surprised laugh and shook his head. "You're something else, Draco," he snorted.

Draco smirked, pleased with himself. "Aren't I just?" he agreed, and dug a hand through his sweaty hair.

Harry gestured with a nod down the hall and began to move away; Draco whined and shook his head. "I'm tired, man, give me a minute to rest!"

"Nice, hot, private showers await you down the hall," Harry returned over his shoulder.

Draco was on his feet and following in an instant. "Even if I don't have any clothes to change into, I could go for that!"

Harry snorted. "You can filch some of my clothes for the day, I've got plenty here."

Draco cocked a brow, but said nothing more on the matter until he was showed the locker bursting with clothes. "Bloody hell, Potter, you've got more clothes in your locker at work than most people do in their homes!"

Harry shrugged self-consciously. "Well I had to be prepared for any number of occasions interrupting my training, so I had to have clothes for anything."

Draco eyed a pair of slick leather pants. "What, were you afraid you would have to suddenly stop training to go clubbing?"

Harry blushed and tugged the pants from view behind the rest of the clothes. "Oh, shut up, Draco. Just pick some stuff out. We'll have to shrink it, but there should be some things in here you wouldn't mind being caught dead in. Especially since you're currently wearing _that_."

Draco glanced down at the clothes draped over his shoulders and hips. "That, my dear Potter, is very true. It would seem 'mortal peril' is one of those things that kind of alters your outlook on life and fashion, yes?"

Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or frown at that, and settled for a nod and letting himself get distracted with the clothes within the closet. "I suppose," he grunted, and pulled a few pairs of wizard-inspired jeans he thought Draco would approve of from the depths. "I never wear these, they're too… flashy for me. They'll be right up your…" but his voice died as Draco plucked a simple pair of faded blue jeans and a crimson t-shirt from the nearest rack.

"These'll do," Draco countered smoothly, grinning.

Harry cocked a brow. "Muggle jeans, Draco? You're kidding, right?"

Draco laughed and shook his head. "If only I could have had a camera handy. The look on your face! You sound like my… you sound like… a prep," he finally settled on, his brow furrowing a bit at the middle. Harry shrugged it off. He knew what Draco had intended to say, and was pleased that he had stopped just before comparing Harry to his, Draco's, father.

"Ah, well. I suppose you really _have _sprouted a soul. Go you."

Draco snorted. "Just because I have a more relaxed sense of fashion, I have a soul?"

"No, that's not the only reason. You just snorted. And a Malfoy never snorts."

Draco widened his eyes dramatically. "Well it's a good thing I'm not legally a Malfoy any longer, then, isn't it?"

Harry rolled his eyes and tugged out a drawer at the base. "And before you get all wigged out, none of these have ever been worn, since I haven't had the occasion to change here since I restocked. They're all brand-new and freshly laundered."

Draco laughed as he saw that Harry was gesturing to the boxers and socks tucked neatly within the drawer.

"That is so reassuring, Potter," he chuckled. "I was so worried I was going to get cooties from _you_, of all people."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean!" Harry countered, affronted.

Draco's laughter redoubled. "It was a _compliment_, Potter! Calm down! I was saying you're not likely to be _dirty_."

Harry blushed. "Oh. Okay," he grunted. "I'm just so used to you insulting me. Especially with you calling me _Potter _every three seconds."

Draco laughed. "Awww, poor baby," he crooned. "Got his brand-new panties all up in a bunch?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Just go get a shower, you great prat," he groused, and snatched some clothes from the locker carelessly.

Draco's laughter followed him as he retreated. "Oh, come on! I was only kidding! I can see your panties aren't up in a bunch, they're neatly folded in a drawer. Oh, look, these ones have got little hearts on them!"

Harry winced and resisted the urge to run back and snatch the aforementioned boxers from Draco's hands, blushing all the while, in favor of storming off. "Grow up!" he tossed over his shoulder.

Draco laughed delightedly. "And these have smiley faces on them!"

If only the curtains pulled across the three-walled shower stalls could be slammed. Alas, like slamming the flap on a tent in a fit of rage, the curtain simply hissed along its bar loudly, which was wholly unsatisfying.

Especially when, since Harry had jerked it too hard, he had to re-adjust it along the opposite corner.

He shrugged out of his clothing, his face and neck aflame with embarrassment, and turned the water on to drown out Draco's chuckling. The blonde had managed to completely push his buttons, and he didn't even realize it, simply by teasing him about his fashion sense. Draco had always dressed immaculately, his every hair in place, his clothes clinging to him perfectly like the second skin he wore them to be. But Harry's genetics and family had made it such that he had never been able to be either neat or well-dressed. His hair had a mind of its own, and his clothes had been second-hand from a boy three times his size.

And now, Harry chided himself, you're a full-grown man with your own well-chosen wardrobe and he _still _manages to find something wrong with it. And still you succumb to his taunts!

Fool.

The only indication he had of Draco's arrival in the showers was the sound of the curtain of the stall Draco had chosen slinking closed and the choking cough of the showerhead coming to life.

And the loud moan of pleasure Draco let loose soon thereafter.

Harry tensed at the sound, his body responding against his will.

"Oh, gods," Draco groaned, and Harry was left wondering just what Draco was doing. "Gods, Potter!"

Harry had to snake out a hand to catch himself against the stall wall. "Draco?" he asked, an air of calm blessedly coming from somewhere to infuse itself in his otherwise shaking voice.

"This feels incredible!" Draco crooned delightedly.

Harry coughed gently to clear his throat of his desire. Draco's voice… the way he had moaned… oh, dear.

"You alright, Draco?" he asked.

"I haven't had a proper shower in ages!" Draco chuckled. "The hospital's sorry excuse for a shower was just pathetic. More of a trickle than a shower, to be honest. And it never got good and hot. Gah! And_ man _was I tired!"

Harry choked out a laugh of relief. "You're something else," he settled on saying.

"I think it was because they were scared some of the elderly patients would burn themselves. But _damn _do I miss hot showers!"

Harry shook his head of the mental images that had sprung to mind when he'd heard Draco moan his name. He thought back instead to all the times Draco had come from the shower connected to his room frowning in disappointment. Harry had never realized why.

But suddenly, as he realized just what Draco had been though and all of that which he knew of rape victims, Draco has still felt _unclean _after showering at the hospital.

What Harry didn't realize was the true extent of Draco's displeasure with the showers there. For those minutes that he was away from Harry, the memory of fingers on his skin returned. Every time Harry was not near him, touching him in some way, even if only a hand on his shoulder, the sensation of the men of the House of Serenity returned to haunt him, to hurt him, to burn him.

But as the pressurized downpour of heat from the showers at the Auror training gym pounded into him, he felt blessed relief from their touch. The hot water massaged his exhausted frame even as it beat away the lingering memory of their influence on him. For the first time in a long time, he felt free. From his past, from his childhood, from his memories.

He didn't want to imagine how short-lived his freedom would be.


	38. Through the pain and through the fear

_A/N: Well, I'm back. I'm sure everyone has forgotten about me, and about my little story. Not updating for years will do that, I've heard. But I'd love to hear from some of my old reviewers, and gain some new ones. I've missed you guys, even if you forgot about me. I have the story completed, now. I'll be trying to smooth out some wrinkles in it over the next week, and I'll try to publish it as fast as I can. Even if my old readers have abandoned me, I still hated having it incomplete. I'd be honored if some of you guys would come along with me for the rest of the ride. I have about 80 more pages after this chapter, I'm not sure how many chapters that would break into, but out of consideration for you guys who might not have time to complete that much in one sitting, I'll post it in chunks._

_Warning: I'd started to do some minor scene shifting before my little accidental hiatus, and as such some things might be a little awkward sounding at times. If I have them repeat a conversation on accident, please let me know. I tried to eliminate that little eventuality as much as possible, but obviously I'm far from perfect._

_Another warning: Yeah... This is going to get pretty emotional at times for the boys. If you were hesitant about Harry being dependent, you might want to not bother getting back into the story._

_And now, without further ado, I present to you the beginning of the end. I thought I'd start off with a little bit of a treat for my slashy folks. ;)_

* * *

Draco let the heat massage his perpetually tense muscles and relaxed happily.

It was quite some time before he snapped out of his utter relaxation to realize he didn't have any shampoo or soap. He bit his lip and glanced around. As if summoned, a bottle of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, along with a wash cloth, tooth brush, toothpaste, deodorant, and face wash appeared.

"Cool," he murmured, too relaxed to manage to convey the enthusiasm he'd intended.

"What?" Harry asked from the other stall.

"The shampoo and stuff," he explained as his grin widened. "They're even my brand!"

Harry chuckled. "Glad you like it," he responded, pleased that his idea to create a spell for automatic toiletries had worked properly.

Harry was finished with his shower long before Draco. He had expected as much, and it pleased him to no end. He knew that the blonde had never truly felt clean in the hospital - he had showered often and come out scowling, displeased. But this time, when Draco stepped from the shower area as Harry continued to scrub at his thick hair to dry it, he had a pleased smile on his face and his body was relaxed.

Harry's mouth went dry at the sight.

Draco had chosen a pair of black slacks which, being a size or two too large because of Harry's muscular frame, rode low on Draco's slender hips, looking as though a slight movement would have them slithering off. The shirt was long enough to compensate, however, as he had chosen a long-bodied polo of the richest crimson which hid Draco's still-too-skinny torso and made him look more fleshed out. His face had regained some of the glow it had lost in the House and never fully got back in the hospital, and his hair was delightfully tousled as he dragged a towel through it.

"What's wrong? Did I pick something you didn't want me to wear?" Draco asked worriedly, and the questions made Harry realize he had been staring.

"No, nono, absolutely not. You picked… you picked well." He attempted to cover his tracks by tearing his gaze away to look behind Draco. But there was nothing to look at, and his action only served to make him blush. He noticed that Draco hadn't donned the socks he held loosely in one hand, and realized that he hadn't pointed out where a pair of shoes would be. For some reason, the sight of Draco's pale feet poking out from beneath the slacks was as much a turn-on as the rest of the outfit, bringing an air of relaxation to the otherwise not-quite-casual outfit.

"We can… we can alter them," he pointed out after a moment. "So they fit better. I… I didn't even think about it."

Draco smiled and rubbed at his hair with the towel, pleased with himself. Harry seemed to be flustered, and a tiny part of his mind couldn't help but hope that it was because Harry found him attractive.

"They're fine how they are," he decided. He knew that the slacks were teasingly loose, and the nearly baggy polo drew attention away from the fact that he was unnaturally slender. He was hoping to get more of a reaction from the raven-haired man, and he knew that if he altered the clothing the chance would be diminished.

"Well, we'll have to alter the shoes. I think your feet are too big to fit in mine." Harry was still remarkably small for a man his age, despite his muscular build, and Draco was a few inches taller.

Draco shrugged and strode a few steps closer to Harry, his smile teasing and his movements seductive.

Harry seemed to be having difficulty swallowing. "Y… yeah," Harry stuttered. "Yeah, we'll have to alter the shoes. Here, let me… show you where they are."

Draco followed Harry with a pleased smirk.

There was no doubt about it; Harry was definitely flustered because of his appearance.

Harry ran the towel through his hair a few times before tossing it into the bin. He then forced his attention to the task at hand and magically altered the shoes before handing them to Draco. "Those should fit," he murmured, and waved Draco closer. "Let me at least tighten those slacks a bit," he insisted.

Something shot through Draco. He wasn't sure how to identify it, but it made his skin tingle and his throat stick. At first he automatically confused it with fear, but he knew that he would never fear Harry.

So he stepped forward cautiously, and as Harry tugged the hem of the shirt up to grasp the waistband of the slacks, Draco let out a shuddering breath as he recognized it as desire. Certainly, he'd marveled at Harry's beauty on multiple occasions, and had even been moved to kiss Harry's soft lips. But this… this was new.

Harry's hair was wild with the halfhearted attempts to dry it, and several locks, heavy with water, were drooping against Harry's forehead. A few were still dripping, and as Draco watched, a heavy droplet slithered down Harry's forehead, arched around his nose, and came to settle in the crease between Harry's pursed lips. Harry licked the drop away without a thought, and the sight of his pink tongue darting out nearly brought a sigh to Draco's lips. Then he felt the slacks tightening around his hips, and he returned his attention to what Harry was doing.

"I hope you know I feel remarkably underdressed," Harry teased, his eyes flicking away from his task with the slacks to take in Draco's face.

The expression in those silver eyes was unreadable, yet it shot a jolt of longing through Harry's nerves. His hands, still working experimentally to ensure the comfort of the slacks, suddenly slowed and relaxed against Draco's hips, until he was simply holding Draco's waist comfortably.

Draco smiled slightly. "Thank you," he murmured, and stepped away. Harry felt his hands slither away from Draco's body with a disappointed wince. He turned his face away to hide the expression, certain it would make Draco uncomfortable.

"Sure," he responded automatically, and forced himself to stand and pretend nothing had happened as he made his way to the mirrors above the sinks. He snagged a comb out of his locker on the way and fruitlessly attempted to tame his unruly hair.

"There's a few spares in there somewhere," Harry told Draco, who nodded and rummaged through the locker. He produced a comb and sat upon the bench beside Harry's locker to attack the mass of blonde locks he had somehow accrued.

Harry gave him a sideways glance, noticing that Draco made no move toward the row of mirrors.

When, a long minute later, Draco had made very little headway in the tangled mess, he looked to Harry hopelessly. At Harry's chuckle, he explained. "I've never had to do anything with it. Drowry… didn't let me bother with it. At one point one of the girls took it upon herself to brush it out, but once… once Drowry sold me she never had time."

Harry's heart ached; he glanced between Draco and the mirror, but didn't state the obvious. He motioned toward the comb instead. "Let me," he offered, and Draco handed the comb over gratefully.

"You have to start at the ends," Harry explained, and straddled the bench behind Draco to demonstrate. "Otherwise it gets all tangled up and it's hopeless. A proper brush would be…" he trailed off and stood once more to rummage. "I actually might… have one," he murmured, and smiled triumphantly as he produced a brush. "This will reduce the amount of pulling," he explained, and began to carefully drag the brush through Draco's long hair. "Don't let it get all flipped over, it's easier to part it down the middle and then do one half at a time."

"How do you know so much about long hair?" Draco whined.

Harry laughed. "Well, I've practically lived with Sev for a year and a half. But before that, I used to hang around way too many women. My aurors nearly had me convinced, at one point, that I should grow my hair out, and several of the women told me about the care of long hair so that I wouldn't be intimidated. But I ended up deciding against it."

Draco smiled. Harry's hands were extremely gentle as they pulled the brush through his hair and constantly straightened the strands to prevent them from tangling. Before long, the tangles had been worked out, and Harry simply pulled the brush gently along Draco's scalp, the motion soothing them both. Draco could feel Harry's fingertips tracing through his still-damp hair and shivered ever so slightly.

"Also, some find it easier to detangle while in the shower. When you put in conditioner, all you have to do is brush it through fully. It'll be easier than trying to do it afterward. It helps to brush it out as you rinse the conditioner, too."

Draco was utterly relaxed beneath Harry's gentle ministrations. He felt as though he could purr.

"I'll try that next time," Draco agreed halfheartedly. He was truly trying to listen to what Harry was saying, but since the tangles didn't tug any longer, the sensation of the brush slithering across his scalp was better than a massage.

"And keep in mind you can't towel your hair dry as though you had short hair. That'll make a right mess of things."

Draco's response was a low grunt, and Harry could tell Draco had stopped listening. He continued to groom Draco's fine hair, pleased that Draco seemed to find comfort in the action.

"I've never known that brushing my hair could feel so good," Draco purred after a few long minutes. "It feels like my scalp is dancing."

Harry grinned as he stood to move around in front of Draco. He ran the brush through the front of Draco's hair and flipped it so that it fell slightly in front of Draco's face on either side. He produced his wand and flicked it while he murmured an incantation which would behave as the equivalent of a hair dryer, and dried the remnants of water from Draco's hair.

"Perfect," he announced, and smiled at his handiwork.

Draco returned the smile. "Thank you."

Harry cocked his head and furrowed his brow at the blonde.

"I think…" he began hesitantly. "I think you would be pleasantly surprised if you were to look in the mirror," he offered.

Draco's smile melted.

Harry cursed himself, his fears confirmed. "You have been avoiding the mirrors," he explained. "I assumed that you didn't want to see yourself. And that means you have probably been avoiding mirrors all this time."

Draco nodded, a bare hint of movement.

"I understand if you don't want to," Harry assured him hurriedly. "I was just..."

Draco let out a long, slow breath, closing his eyes against Harry's searching look. He bowed his head, at war within himself. "It's been a long time since I've recognized anything that looked back at me. I turned into something I never wanted to be while I was there. It… scared me to see myself look so…" he couldn't finish the statement, his voice choked.

"Oh, Draco," Harry breathed, kneeling down to be on eye level with Draco. He placed a hand under Draco's chin and gently guided Draco's lowered gaze to meet his own. "I'm not going to force you to do anything, ever. And I'm sorry if I upset you by bringing this up. But I just know that… you should never be ashamed to look at yourself, Draco."

Draco winced and pulled away abruptly. "But… I'm…"

"Beautiful. Strong. Amazing."

"A whore."

"A man who was victimized. A survivor."

Draco huffed a breath and hummed a bar from a song, somehow amused.

"I'm a survivor, I'm not gon' give up…" Harry sang softly in response to Draco's gentle hum.

Draco's huff turned into a shocked chuckle.

Harry's hands gripped Draco's and squeezed, once, gently. "I won't force you, Draco. But I will be here for you. Always."

Draco's smile returned hesitantly. "Alright," he breathed.

Harry froze, not sure whether Draco was agreeing to look in the mirror, or accepting that Harry wasn't forcing him.

Draco's smile widened at Harry's expression. "I'll look."

Harry grinned, and Draco silently decided that it would be worth it just to see Harry look so openly pleased with him.

Harry's mouth ran away with him suddenly. "And if you don't like the hair, we can get it cut while we're shopping. I think it looks great, but it's obviously up to you…"

"Shopping?" Draco interrupted.

Harry smiled. "Didn't I tell you? I'm taking you shopping for new clothes."

Draco lowered his eyes. "But I haven't got any money," he objected, ashamed. "When my father realized that I wasn't 'loyal,' he…"

"Draco, dear, I have more than enough money to take you shopping. You can't possibly want to wear my clothes. I mean, I do have a lot of clothes, but that just goes to show that I can afford to buy you some. It's no problem at all."

"I don't want you to do that," he insisted. "I can't ask you to put me up _and_ buy me new clothes. Already you've done too much, I could never ask you to do more."

"You're not asking," Harry pointed out decisively. "I'm offering. Now hush up, there'll be no convincing me otherwise, you're going to just have to play dress-up all day and let me dote on you," he teased.

Draco snorted at that image, remembering his own thought of Harry seeing him as a broken doll.

But suddenly, seeing Harry smiling at him secretively, stubborn and resolved to bend over backward for him, the thought did not sadden him.

He rather liked the idea of being Harry's doll.

Seeing that the matter was settled, Harry stood and, his hands not having let go of Draco's, helped Draco to his feet. He ignored the tiny voice in his mind that insisted that he did so simply to have an excuse to continue holding onto Draco.

"Hang on, close your eyes for a second," he instructed, and when Draco complied he positioned him the proper distance from the mirror. He ran his fingertips through the blonde locks one last time, then examined his handiwork. Draco stood patiently, his lips slightly tilted upward, despite the tiny furrow between his brows. Harry could see the play of expectation and worry cross Draco's features, and had to restrain himself from giving Draco a gentle kiss of reassurance.

Instead, he stepped to Draco's side and put his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Alright, you can look."

Draco's eyes opened and immediately fell on Harry's reflection. He looked worried and hopeful at the same time, and Draco smiled at him comfortingly. Then his eyes traveled to the blonde stranger beside Harry.

Draco's features had matured in the last two years. He had filled out his babyish features and his mouth, which had been rather pinched, had widened and filled out pleasantly. His eyes were still the same penetrating silver, but they were wider, more worldly, and held the maturity of two years of hell in them. His gaze traveled across his features as though seeing them for the first time. It was the first time he was able to realize he was no longer a gangly teenager. Instead, he was a man, and his handsome face reflected that well. His shoulders had broadened despite his emaciation, and though his arms were slender, they still held the wiry muscles of his youth within them. His hair, positioned so that it floated comfortably about his face, hid his cheeks somewhat, along with the fact that they were still decidedly hollow.

His eyes flew back to Harry.

"It's weird," he pointed out simply.

Harry smiled hesitantly.

"I haven't seen myself in over a year. Almost two," he murmured. "I… I don't understand how I've changed so much, though."

The raven haired man shrugged, his lips quirking.

"You look amazing," he couldn't resist pointing out.

Draco smiled, and watched as his features pulled into an appealing mixture of pleasure and delicate embarrassment.

Harry waited patiently for Draco to adjust to the sight of himself. He couldn't imagine how jarring it would be to see oneself for the first time in two years, especially after a stage where so much maturing occurred. He imagined the Draco he had last seen, a handsome yet somehow awkward teenager who looked an uncomfortable amount like his father, and compared it to the man who was standing before him.

Somehow, despite the fact that his face had matured, which would, logically, make him appear more like his father, the years had pulled him further away from his father's sneering features. The widening of his jaw and features along with the suffering he had endured had made his face appear more open, honest, and as a result one would hardly match him to his cruel father.

As if reading Harry's mind, Draco smiled. "I look nothing like my father," he announced, and seemed to be genuinely pleased with that fact. Harry didn't blame him. Lucius Malfoy was a remarkably handsome man, yet his face was forever twisted in a sneer, and his narrowed eyes and pinched lips only contributed to the overall displeasing aura the man possessed. His handsomeness was wrapped within an air of hatred, and as such, the beauty was of an evil kind, the kind that lured unsuspecting victims in and spat them out ruined. Draco, on the other hand, was handsome in a more classical sense. He shared the general shape of his father's face, but his lopsided smile and pleasant eyes put miles between he and his father.

Harry nodded. "You look positively gorgeous compared to your father," he emphasized.

Draco dipped his head and blushed, pleased.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I'm not meaning to be… so blunt, it's just that you look really good. I remember what you looked like the first day I saw you… in the House… and you… you look healthy," he finished lamely. He cringed at how awkwardly the words came out, realizing just after he'd begun the last few phrases that they were the wrong thing to say.

The image came unbidden to Harry's mind of that broken and bleeding man crawling toward him, pain making his movements short and jerky and his hair a tangled mass. He remembered the first good look he had managed to get of Draco, after he had finally revealed that there was no use in hiding. The eyes which had once been as vibrant as molten silver were dull and lifeless, his cheeks sunken and a trickle of his own blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Unwillingly Harry compared that image to the man standing before him, but couldn't possibly make it add up. This man was powerful, sure, and noble. He was not the same shivering boy Harry had saved from that place.

Draco seemed to be thinking of the same thing, and Harry scolded himself mentally for having brought it up. He saw Draco shudder as his hand raised as though to wipe away the trail of blood, before reality intruded.

A breath exploded from Draco's mouth and he spun away from the mirror as though burned.

"I don't want to be that person, Harry," he moaned, and bowed his head. "I don't want to be that person anymore."

Harry winced and pulled him close. "You're not, Draco. Just look at yourself. You're nothing like that kid. You're a powerful wizard, Draco, who managed to live through that. You're not him anymore. He's a part of you, but he's not all of you."

Draco's breath was coming in short little pants, and he shook his head against Harry's shoulder. "I don't know who I am anymore." His voice was strained and Harry wasn't sure how to respond.

Draco settled his face against Harry's neck, his shoulders hunched and shuddering with the force of his breath. Harry felt warm tears trailing down his own collar bone, and he kicked himself for having pushed the mirror issue. When would he learn to just let things go? He couldn't fix everything.

Draco noticed the warmth beneath his lips, and even through the fog of self-loathing swirling up into his consciousness, he noticed the smoothness of Harry's skin. He placed a gentle kiss there, at the warm place beneath which Harry's pulse throbbed.

Harry's breath caught, confused by the gesture.

Draco nuzzled gently, testing Harry's reaction. Harry stood frozen, scared to react negatively and scare Draco away, but knowing that this was potentially a Very Bad Thing. Draco's name began to form on his lips, when Draco's mouth opened and his teeth pressed against Harry's throat without warning. Harry gasped, the name he'd begun to say sticking in his throat and choking him. The feel of Draco's mouth, so boldly nipping at his neck, was so distracting, and so terrifying. He had no idea how to respond to this sudden advance, only knew that he didn't want to scare Draco away.

And some part of him that was beyond reason and hadn't felt another's lips on his body in years wanted it to continue

Draco paused with his teeth perched over Harry's skin. His disgust with himself had sent his mind into a jumble, and his tenuous grip on his self-control had shattered with his confusion. He suddenly was desperate for the taste of Harry's skin, and didn't care what he had to do to achieve it. The desire that had surged through his veins just minutes before raced back to the forefront of his mind, and he grew determined to experience it fully.

Determined to mark Harry as his own.

It was inexplicable. He had never felt so strongly aroused so quickly before, nor had he ever felt the urge to _mark_ someone. Yet somehow, a large part of his mind was suddenly straining against his common sense, straining to close his incisors over Harry's skin. His tongue hesitantly peeked from between his teeth and gently stroked its way down Harry's skin. Harry shuddered and every thought of pushing Draco away fled. Some selfish, depraved part of his mind convinced him that Draco's response, on any other person, would be perfectly natural. People acted on their desires all the time. There was nothing wrong with being the recipient of such desires.

Draco seemed to be waiting for some cue from Harry, and Harry's shocked mind didn't have the time to regain its senses before he responded.

His choices: push Draco away and sort out the confusion as to what the hell was hapening, or let himself get carried away…

Before his mind even had a chance to weigh the options, he tilted his head back ever so slightly, giving Draco his permission.

Draco's teeth dug deep into Harry's tender flesh.

Harry let out a gasp as Draco's teeth sank into his neck; he felt his legs begin to tremble as Draco instantly soothed the reddened area with his tongue. The tremble moved from his legs and into his arms, and his legs begin to collapse. The unexpected surge of pleasure the action brought to him had him clutching Draco's shoulders for support rather than in comfort.

Draco applied a gentle suction to the area when he felt no adverse reaction and began to move his mouth, sucking and nibbling and licking Harry's delectable neck. A ragged groan ripped out of Harry's throat. Draco shifted his teeth slightly higher, near to Harry's chin, and Harry's head fell back as though boneless. Draco smiled victoriously against Harry's skin and let his breath fan against Harry's throat.

Harry shuddered.

Draco ducked his head and continued his attentions to the tanned skin beneath his teeth. He deepened the pressure as he felt a fine tremor develop in Harry's arms and back.

Slowly Draco shifted himself forward, using his grasp on Harry to inch the quivering raven-haired man back. Harry stumbled backward automatically as the blonde nudged him, and found himself pressed against his locker. Draco's fingers trailed against Harry's sensitive belly, his mouth never leaving Harry's neck. He moved upward slowly, tasting and teasing the skin across Harry's exposed throat, until his lips found their way to Harry's chin.

Harry whimpered, his arms clenching more tightly to Draco's shoulders and back. Some part of him screaming that there was something wrong with this picture; nothing came to mind aside from the immense pleasure he was receiving from Draco's experienced lips.

Draco's experience.

Suddenly reality crashed down upon Harry and he saw the situation for what it was. Draco had been upset, he remembered, and had sought comfort. He had been caught in his memories. He…

He was reacting how he thought Harry wanted him to react; he was simply acting on the desire he had seen in Harry's eyes.

The realization sent awareness singing through Harry's veins, and he quickly stilled, pulling his head upright from where it had been against his locker. Draco allowed this, but only to sink his teeth lower into Harry's neck. Harry nearly forgot what had alarmed him as an intense jolt of pleasure ripped through him as Draco's teeth found his mark, but he refused to let himself be seduced at Draco's expense. He whined and moved his arms from behind Draco, instead pulling them between himself and Draco and giving Draco a slight nudge. He nearly lost his concentration yet again as Draco let out a low growl as he worried the tender skin of Harry's throat; the vibration of Draco's voice coupled with his teeth sinking ever deeper into the mark he had made on Harry's neck was almost too much. Harry didn't understand his reaction. True, his neck had always been sensitive, but his reaction thus far was insane. His eyes glanced to where they had been standing, and he realized he didn't remember the process of becoming pressed into his locker. Fear thrilled through his mind. What was he doing? What was going on? Why couldn't he control himself? Draco's hands and teeth tried to distract Harry from his newfound clarity of thought, yet his fear of the truth had him pressing Draco away.

But Draco was not ready to be done with his captive. His teeth tightened their grip and his hands traveled quickly to grab Harry's ass. He dragged Harry upward, tilting his hips against Harry's, and pulled Harry's legs around his hips. Harry gasped at the intimacy of the action and had to force his legs not to lock behind Draco. But Draco seemed not to notice his lack of cooperation nor the jeans that both men wore. He supported Harry with his hands while thrusting his hips against Harry's ass until he was supported once again against the locker. He growled possessively; Harry whimpered his submission as his back was slammed rhythmically into the metal, Draco's thrusts against the thin covering of Harry's blue jeans slowly gaining intensity and fervor.

Harry's confusion had quickly turned to fear, not just of the situation but, in a sad, panicky way, of Draco himself. Harry wanted to believe that Draco wasn't capable of pushing the issue, but the strength with which he had Harry pinned against the lockers wasn't something to trifle with. Harry knew that if it came down to a contest of strength, he would more than be able to handle himself. But he also knew, in a deep part of his heart, that he could never fight Draco. He would rather die than hurt his Draco.

The entirety of the situation had happened within moments. Harry realized that his hands were pressing against Draco's chest, but that his throat had yet to respond to his attempts to speak.

"Draco, please, NO!" Harry finally managed to gasp.

In his shock at the rejection Draco jerked away, forgetting his grip on Harry's legs. Harry fell to the ground on his ass, his head snapping back to connect with the metal locker with a thud. He grunted in pain as Draco reeled backward.

Horror filled Draco's silver eyes, and he seemed as though he was ready to throw up. He covered his mouth and had to breathe deeply in order to calm himself.

"Harry," he whimpered.

Harry remained where he had fallen, his breathing heavy and his eyes slightly unfocused.

"Harry, I'm sorry," Draco choked, his voice thick with what Harry took to be revulsion. "I'm sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry."

His voice broke and he fell to his knees before Harry. The words continued to spill from his lips rapidly, as though every second that Harry did not respond he grew more panicked. "Harry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, Harry. Harry, please, I'm sorry."

Harry forced his eyes to focus on the blonde and he was finally able to comprehend the words Draco was repeating.

"No, Draco, it's okay," he assured, forcing his voice to remain somewhat calm. He thought he would growl the words, his voice was so thick, but instead they came out choked.

Tears were spilling down Draco's face, slithering down his cheeks and onto the hand that was still clenched across his mouth.

"Oh, God, Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Harry, please, Harry, I'm sorry."

Harry's hands reached to clasp around Draco's face. "It's okay, Draco. Don't freak out. Please, calm down, Draco."

"Harry, I didn't mean to do that, Harry, I didn't mean to, Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that, Harry."

Harry shook his head and forced the blond to meet his eyes. The silver of his eyes lent his tears a luminescent quality, and Harry had difficulty not staring.

"Draco. Listen to me, Draco. Stop apologizing."

"Harry," Draco moaned dismally. "Harry, Harry I… _Harry_!"

Harry nearly smiled at Draco's compromise. It seemed that if he wasn't able to apologize, he would instead repeat the only part of his sentences he could.

"Draco. Calm down and listen to me. Draco, calm down, it's okay."

Draco fell silent but his body still trembled with emotion. His silver eyes spilled a plethora of tears across his hand, and he couldn't quite hold Harry's gaze.

"Draco, do you understand me? Take a deep breath, calm down."

Draco obeyed the first part of the command. His breath whistled through his clenched fingers as he gasped air into his mouth.

"Draco, are you alright?" Harry asked as gently as he knew how.

Draco nodded miserably. "I'm sorry," he peeped.

"Draco, stop that. Stop apologizing, you did nothing wrong."

That blond head whipped back and forth in denial. "I... oh, God, Harry. I never meant to do that, Harry, I shouldn't have… Avery… God, _I'm_ one of _them_!"

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed, horrified. "No, don't you _even_ think that way!" he commanded, not willing to acknowledge the tiny part of his mind which had, for a moment, feared that very thing. "Draco Malfoy, look at me. Look at me!"

Draco's eyes raised miserably to look at Harry.

"Don't you think that way, Draco. Please, just relax, nothing happened. You're fine, I'm fine, we're fine, just pretend nothing happened."

Draco shook his head and his fingers clenched more tightly against his mouth. "What have I done?" he moaned, and collapsed.

Harry lunged and caught the blonde as he slumped to his side. He pulled Draco into his lap and began to rub his back soothingly. "It's alright, Draco. I'm sorry I…"

Draco's eyes flew open and his hand moved away from his mouth. "What did _you_ do?" he demanded. "You didn't do anything, why are _you_ apologizing? I'm the one that bloody attacked you!"

Harry lowered his eyes. Draco didn't even understand what had happened, it seemed.

"Draco, you were only acting on the…"

Draco's eyes widened as he focused for the first time on the livid mark he had left on Harry's throat.

"Oh, God," he moaned, and his fingers reached to touch it.

"Draco," Harry reprimanded, and caught the blonde's hand before he could touch the still-tender mark. "Draco, it's alright, just relax. Let's just relax and calm down, just hold on a minute and calm down. We just have to hold on a minute and calm down, we have to just relax and think about what just happened."

He knew he was rambling, but didn't know how to stop himself.

"Are you alright, Draco?" he asked, somewhat calmed when he realized that he was nearly panicking.

Draco seemed to have gotten over his shock. He dipped his head and tucked himself beneath Harry's chin, trembling still but breathing more normally.

"Draco, talk to me. Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," he whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"Draco, stop apologizing; I'm telling you, if anyone should be apologizing it's me."

"You're not disgusted with me?" Draco's voice asked weakly.

Harry moaned in misery. "No, Draco. God, no, Draco. I'm not disgusted with you."

Draco raised his head slowly. "You're not?"

"No," Harry insisted forcefully. "I'm not. If anything, I'm disgusted with myself. Some part of me knew, I knew you were only reacting as those monsters programmed you to, and still I didn't stop you…"

Draco's indignant huff interrupted Harry's words. "I did _not _do that because of the House of Serenity, Harry," he insisted, then tucked his head once more against Harry's shoulder. He let himself be comforted by Harry's calm assuredness and lack of disgust.

"You… you didn't?" Harry questioned, shock jolting through him.

Draco shook his head. Harry thought that had been an act? "Sure, I may not be very… proper… in my affections," he began to explain. "But I wasn't simply acting, Harry. I was doing exactly what I wanted to do."

Harry's mouth opened and closed, confused. "Then… I don't understand…"

But before Draco could respond the door to the locker room slammed open. Harry cursed at the interruption, damning his luck. Draco leapt to his feet, the look of a startled doe in his eyes seeming to beg Harry not to say anything about what had just happened. Harry gave him a reassuring smile as Draco gave him a hand up.

Draco turned away and was confronted with the mirrors. Acting out of desperation, he pretended to busy himself in the mirror- it was still startling to look upon himself- while Harry packed up the things they had pulled from his locker.

"Draco!" an all-too-familiar voice screeched in excitement. Draco's eyes flicked to look behind him in the mirror.

"Padma!" he bellowed, and spun around. In three huge strides he was across the room, sweeping her up into his arms and twirling her around. She was smaller than he remembered, he thought as he enfolded her in his arms.

"Draco, it's so good to see you!" she gushed, and rained friendly kisses on his cheeks. "The healers wouldn't let me see you, Draco, they said that I would only remind you… well, and so they kept me away."

"I wondered where you were," he responded, his brow furrowed as he set her gently on the floor. "I thought you'd forgotten about me!"

Padma let her eyes show her offense. "Draco Malfoy, I would never!" she chided, and once again threw her arms around him. "You look spectacular, Draco!"

Draco smiled. "You look quite stunning yourself, my lovely lady," he answered, his Malfoy charm turned on high. "And you should have told those dumb-ass healers that you were the best thing that happened to me in that wretched place and it would have been wonderful to see you well! I've worried about you," he admitted.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he saw how relaxed Draco was around the petite woman.

"You needn't have. Oh, Harry! Hello!" she chirped, and spun out of Draco's arms to fling herself in Harry's. Harry didn't notice her eyes take in the mark on his neck curiously. "How've you been doing? Fudge has kept me so busy I haven't gotten a chance to call and see what you've been up to!"

"Fudge?" Harry exclaimed. "You're already at work?"

She flinched and took a step away.

"Padma Patil! You should be taking time off! You should _not_ be returning to work, especially not for _Fudge_!" He spat the name like something extremely foul.

Padma smiled hesitantly. "He's been really good about it, Harry. And… well, all of us have come back."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Dear heavens, woman! Are you all insane!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Harry. It's helping. Don't worry. Having something to do… it keeps the memories away."

Harry's eyes softened and he nodded. "I can understand that," he replied, and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "I'm sorry Padma."

"Oh, psh, you have no reason to apologize. So," she drawled, clearly attempting to change the subject. "Where are my two favorite men running off to?"

Harry nodded toward Draco. "I'm going to take him clothes shopping and then he's going to crash at my place."

Padma brightened considerably. "Clothes shopping?" she exclaimed, and Harry sighed as he realized he'd said the magic words.

"Yeah, clothes shopping. Would you like to come along?" he offered grudgingly. He knew that shopping with an exuberant woman would take three times as long as shopping alone, but knew that Draco and Padma would do well with time to bond. They had shared some of their worst moments, and Padma had been the only thing keeping Draco alive in that place.

She grinned widely. "I'd love to!" she squeaked, and practically jumped up and down as she began to lead Draco by the arm. "We have _got_ to go to that new place over by…"

Draco resisted her tugging gently. "I'm sorry, Padma, but… can I have a minute to talk to Harry? I promise we'll only be a while, I just…"

"Sure!" she interrupted quickly, and tossed him a wink. "I came down here to use the lady's room anyway, I'll just go to the one down the hall."

Draco smiled gratefully. "Thank you, dear," he murmured, and relaxed. He had hoped she wouldn't take it personally.

"I'll just be waiting upstairs," she tossed over her shoulder.

Draco took a moment to watch her walk away before turning back to Harry, his hand delving into his pocket to produce a small silver object.

"I understand," Harry said immediately.

Draco cocked his head in curiosity. When Harry was more interested in studying the pattern on the floor than elaborating, Draco spoke up.

"Understand what?"

Harry's eyes flickered to his face before settling on the floor again. "That you don't want me to go. That you don't want to stay at my place. I completely understand, and I'm sorry that I've made you uncomfortable, I just I just I…" Harry looked up hopelessly at Draco. "I'm sorry."

Draco shook his head and blinked several times as though to clear the confusion away.

"What the ruddy hell are you talking about?" he finally burst out.

Harry's eyes fled to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did, I just… and I can understand that you don't want to stay at my place, I can talk to Snape, I'm sure you can stay with him for a while, or maybe Padma has an extra room…"

Draco stared carefully at Harry's stance, searching for a sign that he was not wanted. When he found that Harry was genuinely contrite, he was even more confused.

"You don't want me to stay at your place anymore?" he clarified carefully, just to be sure. His voice held no offence, only confusion. He didn't understand what had brought this about. Had Harry actually been disgusted by his actions and just didn't want him to know?

"Of course I do!" Harry responded hotly, and his voice vouched for his honesty. "I just mean that… after what happened… I can understand if you're no longer comfortable around me."

Draco strode forward warily. "Harry, you're… you're the _only_ person I'm comfortable around."

Harry's gaze flicked to the doorway, and Draco accurately guessed what he was thinking.

"Honestly, Harry, I think that… if you hadn't been here, seeing her… would have been, well, bad. Not too bad, but… I mean, the healers were right, she reminds me of that place. But you ground me, and help me to remember that Padma was all that was good in that place. She was comfort and healing and food, even though that place was hell. But I… I don't know that I could be around her without something to remind me that I'm not there anymore. That that's no longer my reality."

Harry lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Draco," he murmured.

Draco tugged him into a hug. "I'm sorry about earlier, Harry. Can we just do like you said? Pretend it didn't happen?"

Harry smiled. "Sure, Draco. As long as you're okay with that."

"Of course," he grinned, and lowered his eyes to the object in his hands. "Harry, I… this… this is something one of my father's uncles gave me. He never did like my father much, said he was too prissy, but he… he was always kind to me. He gave this to me on my seventeenth birthday, he said that he had made it especially for me. He said that the serpent was once considered a noble creature, and is associated with healing and protection."

Harry looked down to find a metal serpent, about the width of his pinky, resting in Draco's palm. It was the most detailed piece of metalwork he had ever seen, with a body that seemed to writhe and coil before his very eyes. He watched it, amazed. It _was_ moving, very slightly. Its eyes were fashioned from flecks of emerald, and the rest of it was made of shining silver. Harry had never seen a more beautiful piece of metalwork.

"My father took it from me soon after he found out about it. He never liked his uncle much. But he always kept it at the manor, for some reason. I had always expected he would sell it the first chance he got, but he didn't. I got Sev to take me to the house before I came here…"

"It's beautiful," Harry observed, playing his fingertips across it, and smiled at Draco, slightly confused.

"I want you to have it," Draco finished on a whisper.

Harry withdrew his hand as though burned. "Draco!" he breathed, shocked. "No, I can't… I can't accept that. I can't, I appreciate it, really, I do, but I simply can't."

Draco picked the snake up from where it was coiled in his hand. "Please, Harry. For me? I would like you to have it. I've always wanted you to have it. Please. Please take it, even if you never wear it. Please."

Harry could only stare dumbly as Draco held the snake up to him. He reached a hand out tentatively, and was shocked when the little metal snake slithered onto his hand, up his arm, over his shoulder, and around his neck. It wrapped its tail and body around the back of his neck so that it encircled his whole neck, letting its head rest against his chest.

"Draco… are you… are you sure?"

Draco smiled and patted it on the head lightly. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he declared decisively. "I want you to have it. Besides, I think _it_ wants you to have it," he pointed out, and smiled at the content metal snake.

Harry stroked its head lightly, marveling when it raised its head to rub against his finger. It was damn near acting like a puppy rather than a snake, especially one of the metal variety. "It's incredible," he whispered, and watched it rub against the ends of his fingers.

Draco's smile would have melted a dragon's heart. "I'm glad you like it."

Harry stopped petting the snake to run a hand along Draco's cheek. "Thank you."

Draco let his eyes trace the serpent, eyeing where the scales settled around the mark on Harry's neck. "You're welcome."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. Not only had he never received such a beautiful gift, but he had most especially never received one that meant so much.

Draco gestured to the mark on Harry's neck. "But you may want to find an explanation for that mark. Padma could barely contain herself when she saw it. She wanted to ask you _so badly_. I'm sure she'll give in at some point or another and ask." As he spoke, he slid the socks and shoes Harry had given him on, desperate for something else to focus on.

"Oh, come on, it can't be _that_ obvious," Harry chuckled, relieved to have a reason to change the topic, and made his way to the mirror. "Usually I don't really bruise… bloody _hell_!"

Draco winced at Harry's shocked exclamation. "I'm sorry," he murmured again.

But Harry was laughing. "Bloody hell, Draco! You practically drew blood!"

The mark was already vibrantly purple, with a set of very clearly defined bite marks along the front of his neck.

Draco hid his face and groaned.

"No, Draco, don't feel bad," Harry hurried to assure him. "Honestly, it's just… wow. You're good," he joked.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"You're like a pit bull, Draco. Nice grip!"

Draco couldn't help the snort of amusement that erupted.

"Atta boy! Relax a little, it's no big deal, I'll just heal it so that…"

"No!" Draco objected.

Harry froze with his wand halfway to his throat.

"Uh… if you heal it, Padma will know that I did it, because she'll have seen us acting as though nothing happened and then suddenly you come out healed, she'll wonder why you hadn't healed it already and will know it's me."

Harry looked at him strangely. "You think she'll figure that out?" he wondered aloud.

"Yeah," Draco assured him. "So you'll have to just leave it, pretend you meant to have it there all this time, wear it with pride type of thing."

Harry touched the bite mark gingerly. "I can imagine what people will say," he groaned. "My luck we'll see Dean and Ron or something. No, I had better take it off. It looks like I was attacked by some wild animal."

Draco laughed along with Harry but was inwardly desperate to have the mark remain. Seeing his mark alongside his serpent on Harry's throat stirred something primal within him, and he didn't want to have it go away. But he knew that Harry was not his, was not his to kiss, to touch, to mark. He had no business wanting to see his teeth in Harry's flesh.

"Unless it hurts," Draco added weakly, as a second thought. He didn't want Harry to suffer for him, but wanted to have a reason to continue to see the mark. It somehow complimented the silver of the serpent, and made Draco's heart tingle comfortably.

Harry grinned at him in the mirror. "No, it doesn't," he replied, and something in Draco's face made him backtrack. "Well, you're right about Padma, though. She'll know right away it was you if I take it off."

Draco brightened. "So you'll leave it on?"

Harry seemed confused, but agreed.

Draco's gaze flickered to the mark with a predatory gleam. "Cool," he cheered, then made his way out of the room to where Padma waited.

Harry examined the mark for a moment longer. His fingers probed it experimentally, and he couldn't contain the shudder that caused him to grip the sink with his free hand as a jolt of pleasure ripped through him. He met his eyes in the mirror in wonder. He had never had a mark of its kind feel so very good. He whispered his fingertips across the indentations of Draco's teeth, and nearly groaned aloud.

He forced himself to delay his inspection of the mark for another time, because at present moment, the damn thing felt like some sort of magic. Writing it off as raging hormones, he put on his best shopping face strode from the room in search of his party.

He never noticed that he and Draco had never come up with a proper explanation for the mark.

* * *

What he found when he found Draco widened his eyes considerably. Several of his female guards were flocking around an extremely uncomfortable Draco Malfoy. He was looking around frantically for Harry, and when his eyes fell on the raven haired man he visibly relaxed.

"Well, ladies," he murmured. "Me and Harry must be off. I'm so glad to see you all well. I was worried about you guys."

Lavender spun and saw Harry. "Harry!" she squealed, and the flock of girls bombarded Harry instead. "We heard you were taking the job back, Harry, is it true? When we heard you quit after we disappeared, well, we were so upset! We had been hoping to regain our old positions but Fudge has been absolutely delightful, well, delightful when compared to how he used to be. He's been doting on us like his own daughters!"

Harry smiled to hear that. "I'm glad," he purred, and shook the hands of the dozen women gathered around him. "I'm so glad you're all here," he exclaimed, and watched their anxious faces.

"Yes, yes, I'm taking my position back," he admitted. Several squeals of excitement erupted.

"Wow, and my first command back on the job is to _never squeal like that again_." The girls' indignation was clear, and Harry laughed, though he walked away from the encounter sporting a sore arm. "We'll have a team meeting soon, very soon, to discuss how we're going to go back to the old ways, but we're _definitely_ going to be a whole team again. Each and every one of us will be reporting back to business as usual," he grinned.

"Aye, and with a new member!" Padma piped up, and Harry cocked his head in confusion.

"New member? What do you mean?"

Padma cocked a brow and motioned with both hands toward Draco, who, at Harry's confusion, looked again uncomfortable.

"Ta-dah!" she cheered.

Harry broke into a huge grin. "You're going to work for me?" he asked happily, and Draco nodded once, not raising his eyes.

"Brilliant!" Harry cheered, and patted Draco on the back. "You should have told me!"

Draco shrugged. "I figured they would have at least talked to you about it first," he pointed out, and Harry sensed his discomfort.

"No, there's no reason to ask me about it, they knew that's what I wanted anyway! I'm so glad you're working at the ministry, Draco, you'll do so well!" he turned his attention to the women. "You should have _seen_ him kick ass the other day. It was brilliant! He was _beautiful_!"

The women turned with renewed interest to Draco. "You fight?" Lavender asked curiously. "Well enough for Harry to call it _beautiful_? I mean, no offense, but combat is Harry's art, his cocaine. For him to call someone else fighting beautiful is like… like Tupac calling Biggie Smalls a wonderful rapper. He's _very_ territorial."

Draco laughed while Harry pretended to be offended. "I'm not _that_ picky," he objected halfheartedly.

Draco shrugged modestly. "I trained for a long time," he murmured.

"No, don't you dare brush that under the rug," Harry objected. "You were like… like Jackie Chan and Bruce Le had a baby and taught it how to be God. You were like, incredible!"

Draco blushed harder. "I am _not _that good."

Harry snorted his objection. "Not that good, my ass." Suddenly a gleam of glee entered his eye. "I bet, given a few months… I bet you could even beat me," he stated with surety.

The girls around him froze, shock flitting across their faces.

Draco seemed horrified at the very thought. "No way in hell!" he exploded. "You're _loads _better than me. You're…"

Harry simply smirked.

The blonde sputtered. "You're… you gotta be kidding. You're kidding. You're insane. I watched you take out thirty men while _blindfolded_!"

Harry's grin was sudden and delighted. "Ah, so you and Sev watched me train."

Draco's blush deepened. "Okay, yeah, sure, a little, but that's besides the point. The point being, I couldn't dream of beating you."

Harry shrugged and let it go. "If you say so," he sighed, and whispered conspiratorially to the women. "He could so whip my ass until I wished for Voldemort's slimy ass to come kill me."

Draco laughed with the women. "You're insane," he murmured, and couldn't seem to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry smiled, pleased that he had managed to distract Draco from being embarrassed about the job. "So, who's going shopping with us?" he asked the women, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth. Several of the women bowed out reluctantly, claiming they had a prior engagement. Padma, Lavender, and Angelina happily offered to assist in their shopping expedition. Harry resisted the urge to groan aloud.

"Are you gentlemen ready to be tortured?" Angelina warned them. "Because _I_ even get exhausted after shopping with these two. And they haven't had a reason to go all-out in two years."

Harry did groan, then, and Draco immediately followed suit. "Oh, dear," Draco murmured, and smilingly waggled his finger at Padma. "You had better not drag Harry and I into _every_ shop in London. Not even half!"

Lavender grinned widely. "We wouldn't dream of it," she agreed.

Turns out there weren't quite enough shops in London to appease them. Instead, they had to go outside of London, as well.


	39. peace is a darting fey too fast to catch

Harry, the smug son of a bitch, was truly enjoying himself. He was lucky not to be Draco, who the females had forced to try on every outfit they could find. Draco felt like a cornered rabbit, but didn't mention anything to the women. They were enjoying their game of dress-up-Draco, and he was too good-natured to stop their fun, no matter how torturous it was for him. And Harry was no help, either, Draco decided as Harry grinned and pointed out yet another shirt that would "compliment his silver eyes."

Draco wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep.

If he was perfectly honest with himself, he was flattered at all of the attention the overeager quartet was paying him. He had never seen someone so eager to put clothes _on_ his body, and was pleased at how much the girls delighted in it.

He wondered many times whether Harry realized how often he toyed with the silver serpent throughout the day.

Finally Harry seemed to say the magic words to get the females to lay off trying clothes on Draco for a time.

"Hey," Harry piped up after stopping at a number of shops. "You guys do realize _I'm_ paying for everything?"

The girls looked, chagrinned, at the dozen or more bags he was already carrying, as well as the half-dozen Draco was toting.

Draco looked horrified. Harry had been insisting that the girls get everything they thought looked good on Draco, which was quite a bit, and though Draco had complained and felt guilty, Harry had not yet objected.

"No!" Harry corrected as he looked at the guilt in their faces. "What I mean is, why haven't you ladies shopped for _yourselves_ yet?"

The three women exchanged disbelieving glances.

"Yes, ladies, I _do _mean that you can have a shopping spree at my expense. I would love to treat you to it. I could never have found all of this stuff for Draco. But don't abandon his campaign completely," he insisted, and his arms were suddenly filled with not only the dozen bags but three _very_ ecstatic ladies.

"Oh, Harry, you're a _dream_!" Lavender giggled.

"You are such a doll, Harry!" Padma gushed.

"You're too sweet, Harry!" Angelina insisted.

Draco grinned, relieved. Not only would Harry's shopping spree call the ladies off the hunt for Draco-clothes temporarily, but he no longer felt guilty at spending so much of Harry's money.

At one point the guilt had overwhelmed him, as he gazed at the numerous bags the two of them held. "Harry, you can't possibly pay for all of this."

"Actually, I'm quite sure I can. Oh, Lavender dear, you're a _genius_! That will look perfect on him! Put it in the pile."

Draco was undeterred. "But Harry, it's too much. These three are mental!"

Harry grinned. "You're overreacting. Honestly, Draco, a Malfoy should have a closet bursting with clothes, along with a spare bedroom bursting with clothes, and a trunk, as well, I think."

Draco shook his head. "Harry, but this is so much! I… I'll repay you out of my pay from the ministry," he decided finally. "I'll repay every cent…"

"You will not! Or I'll call off the whole trip and return everything we've got. I'll not have you paying for any of it, it's my treat, and the girls are _so_ enjoying this, just look at them."

Draco bit his lip. "If you're sure…"

"I am! Now I think Angelina has something for you to try on, get to it!"

Draco snapped out of his memories as the pile of clothes they were definitely buying grew larger. "Harry!" he exclaimed.

Harry grinned at him innocently. "Everyone's wearing them nowadays, Draco. You simply _must_ have a pair."

"I have not seen _one_ person wearing dragon-hide pants!"

Harry's impish grin widened. "Well, then you simply have to start the movement! After everyone sees _you_ in them, they'll be _dying_ to have a pair. They look spectacular on you!"

Draco groaned.

"Oh, Harry, you're not torturing our dear friend Draco by spending _money_ on him, are you?" Hermione asked from nearby.

Harry tossed her a grin while Draco looked distinctly uncomfortable. He had just gotten used to having the three girls from the House around, and there, standing for all the world as though they expected to be invited along, was another group of three.

"Ginny, Hermione, Luna!" Harry cheered, and hugged each of them in turn.

The three newcomers greeted Draco's shopping buddies happily before turning their attention on Draco, who seemed determined to fade out of existence against the nearest shirt display.

"Draco dear, do you remember us?"

Draco nodded, once, abruptly.

Hermione studied his face guiltily. "Yes, he remembers us, all right," she decided as she sensed his unease. "Remembers how awful we were to him at Hogwarts."

Draco bit his lip and tried to smile. "I was, if I remember correctly, awful to you first."

Hermione seemed to brighten. "As a matter of fact, you were. But that's quite the past, now, isn't it? You five simply _must_ come over for dinner. Tonight's a bit of a… pre-celebration celebration. Just a few people who we're hoping to see a bit more of before we have to entertain everyone. You'll come, won't you?"

Draco couldn't help it. "What's the celebration?" he asked curiously.

Hermione beamed at him. "I'm pregnant!" she chirped.

That wasn't quite what Draco had been expecting. "Hermione!" he exclaimed, genuinely pleased for the bouncing witch. "Congratulations!"

She squeaked and looked as though she wanted to hug him. He tried to fade into the shirts again.

"I'm just so happy!" she cheered, and grinned at Harry. "Harry, please tell me you'll both come," she begged.

Harry looked to Draco for an answer, but Draco was too busy blending into the shirts.

"Well, we're going to get Draco settled in at my place before we do anything, and perhaps we'll try to stop by. But I promise you, I _will_ be at the shower. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Again Draco spoke against his better judgment. "Aren't guys typically banned from baby showers?" he asked curiously.

"Well, actually yes. It's not the traditional shower, I guess. It's just a huge gathering. I hope you'll come," she insisted earnestly.

Draco offered her an attempt at a smile. "I'll try," he offered.

Hermione seemed pleased with that. "Wonderful! So, I've got to go, Ronald is grilling tonight and he…"

"Ronald? Weasley? You and Ronald _actually_ ended up together?"

Draco cursed himself. When did he ever shut up? Why hadn't he just let her flounce away and take her two friends with her?

"Yes, Ronald and I are married," she chuckled, and didn't seem to mind in the least the fact that he had just remembered all the times he had teased them that they would get together.

"Oh, congratulations again, then," he murmured.

"Thank you, Draco," she purred, then turned to her shopping buddies. "Well anyway, ladies, I'll see you later. Lavender, Padma, Angelina, you'll be there, won't you?"

The three agreed eagerly, and Hermione prepared to leave.

"Wait, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "I'm treating these three lovely ladies and Draco to a shopping spree, you three wouldn't be interested in joining us, would you?"

Hermione looked as though she might burst with the temptation. "I wish I could!" she exclaimed, then shook her head. "But I _must_ get this back to Ronald. He's going to be spitting that I haven't already returned. But thank you so much! Ginny and Luna have the day free, they'll certainly be interested, won't you, girls?"

Luna and Ginny nodded, trying to look eager. Ginny stood with an uncomfortable look in her eyes. Luna was, as usual, utterly unperturbed.

"I'd be delighted to help Harry spend his money," she sighed, and motioned toward the mark on Harry's neck. "How did you get that?"

Harry blushed crimson, and Draco redoubled his efforts to disappear. His cheeks were tinged a delicate pink. "Luna, well, this is a hickey," he explained, as though to a child.

She smiled. "I wasn't sure whether it was a hickey or if you crossed a vampire," she explained, and turned to look at Draco. "Since he's awful pale, I couldn't be sure."

Harry choked on the air. "What do you mean?" he squawked. "Draco didn't…"

Luna simply smiled at him, and Harry would have sworn he saw a clever glint in her eyes. "Oh, right," she agreed. "He's simply turning purple in embarrassment _for you_."

Harry gaped between Luna and Draco. "He didn't… it's just that… he walked in on me," he explained feebly.

The women seemed unconvinced, especially Luna, who kept looking between the pair curiously. The day, Draco had to admit, became much more interesting with the daydreaming blonde along.

* * *

Draco collapsed on the bed Harry showed him to without bothering to set down the bags. They gradually slithered from his cramped fingers to tumble onto the floor, while he groaned and stretched his cramped back. Harry, he realized guiltily, was carrying twice as many bags, which he set carefully upon the floor about the wardrobe.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he murmured, and shimmied further up the bed. "I didn't realize how much they were making you carry."

Harry grinned, not in the least upset by the situation. "It's quite alright," he assured Draco. "I had a wonderful time. Aren't they just the most amusing young ladies you could ever hope to set eyes on?"

Draco grinned crookedly. "That they are. Especially that Luna. She's _quite_ a piece or work. I could never quite guess where her mind is at any given moment."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, she's brilliant. I tried loads of times to get her to hire on, but she flat refused." His eyes turned sad as he thought about what his women had had to endure. "I hate to say it, but I'm glad she did. I only wish the others would have turned me down."

Draco sat up carefully. "It's not your fault, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "No, in a way, it is. I hired Lavender on three months before… before. She was difficult to convince."

"Working for you… even for three months… she doesn't regret it. Your aurors, they do great things, Harry. They're throwing themselves back into their jobs because it's where they're meant to be. Those aurors you command, every one I've seen holds you in such high regards. You're a good leader. They don't blame you for being the person who they worked for when something terrible happened to them any more than I do."

Harry's eyes flew to his. "You don't? Honestly?"

Draco smiled crookedly. "Of course not."

Suddenly a trill of awareness roiled through Harry. He hadn't even had time to think about it, what with the recovery of half his force, but…

"The prisoners," he breathed suddenly.

Draco tensed.

"The prisoners, they're still out there, aren't they?"

Draco bit his lip. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Voldemort… the Death Eaters. They're still free. They're still…"

Realization dawned on Draco. He forced himself to relax against the pillows despite the suddenly painful reminder he felt coursing through him.

_His father_.

Harry left Draco's room soon afterward to think. He had given Draco detailed directions to his room and to the various major rooms in the house, then vanished to his study to think.

The prisoners, it was rumored, were rewarded by whomever had orchestrated the escape with an island on which they could roam free. Harry didn't know of any islands that could possibly fit the profile, and couldn't imagine that that could be true. There had to be more to the story, he decided. There had to be something he was missing. He had searched for the entire two years, in secret, for his men and the prisoners. He had searched long after the official ministry search had ended. Even after his team had finally given in and pronounced the women and prisoners dead. They had even held funerals.

Yet the women were alive, and had been condemned terribly by the actions of whomever had given the commands that night. So the prisoners were, logically, unharmed.

Harry hadn't been gone from Draco's room for ten minutes before his study door slammed open.

"My mark!" Draco exclaimed, and motioned toward the Dark Mark on his left forearm. "My mark, my mark my mark can find them! My… the prisoners! We're all connected, my mark can find them!"

Harry was startled by not only the intrusion but the obviousness of the idea. "Of course!" he exclaimed, and leapt to his feet excitedly. "How can you do it? We'll have to go in with guns blazing, we'll have to find a way to not let them know we're using it. You're ruddy brilliant, Draco! I can't believe we haven't thought of this!"

Draco cocked his head. "Well that's logical. You didn't have anyone with a Dark Mark handy."

Harry shook his head. "No, we had S…"

His voice froze in his throat.

"Wait a minute," Harry murmured, and shook his head again, this time as though to clear it. "We had Severus. Why didn't Severus think of that? He's even more accustomed to feeling the connection than you are. Why didn't Severus think to find them that way?"

Draco paled. "What are you suggesting, Harry?"

Harry's eyes roamed Draco's. "No, nothing, I'm not suggesting anything. Severus is… Severus wouldn't… Sev… he must have just…"

Draco was gnawing on his lip. "Harry, Sev had two years to mull it over. He must have… he _must_ have known that you could find the other marked followers through the Mark. He… he _must _have! It's… it would be mental not to!"

Harry looked as though someone had killed his puppy. "I know. Severus… bloody _hell_, Draco, that means… that means…"

"Severus was covering for them," Draco rasped out miserably.

"And this whole time, he was…"

"Pretending to be your friend."

"But that's…"

"Horrible."

"Impossible! I can't… I can't believe that. Sev… Sev wouldn't… would he? Sev was… Sev was there, he has been there for me for _two bloody years_, he can't have been acting that well! He would have slipped up!"

"If we're right, Harry, then he had Dumbledore duped for sixteen years," he groaned. "Two years would be nothing for him."

"But… But it's _Severus_ we're talking about!" Harry moaned, and collapsed into the chair in front of his desk. "Severus can't be covering for them. There has to be another option. There has to be an explanation. Maybe he managed to alter his Mark so that it was no longer tied to Moldey Voldey's crew. Maybe… maybe he _can't_ use his Mark any longer. Maybe…"

Draco sat across from Harry, misery making his head droop. "Harry, we have to think about this before we go to Severus. We have to… we have to come up with a plan."

"No! I refuse to believe it! Sev… he's been my best friend for two years, he's been my mentor, he's been my… he's been my _father_! I can't… I _won't_ believe he's been hiding the Death Eaters! I _won't_! There has to be another explanation."

Draco nodded his agreement, but he didn't look convinced. "Harry, we have to… we have to prepare. In case… in case Sev _is_ hiding them. We have to be ready to deal with that."

Tears filled Harry's eyes. "There has to be some other explanation."

"Harry, please, I know this is hard, but…"

"No! You haven't been living with him for two years! You haven't got a business with him! We're partners, Draco, we're partners in one of the most successful potions shops in Britain! He's… he's like a father to me, I _won't_ believe that he's one of them! I just can't!"

Draco nodded to placate the irate man. "Alright, Harry, we'll just talk to him, there has to be an explanation."

Harry shook his head. "No, we won't, we'll just… we'll locate the Death Eaters and we'll take them out. Then we'll mention to Sev… we'll… bloody _hell_ I don't know!"

Draco chewed his lip. "I _think_ there's a way I can locate where the others were taken without alerting them to the fact. We can go there, just as a recon mission. We can see what they're up to, and then we'll speak to Sev if we need to."

Harry dropped his head into his hands. "Draco, I won't be able to bear it if he's one of them," he murmured.

Draco slid from the chair and dropped to one knee before Harry. "I know," he replied, and hugged Harry comfortingly. "I don't know what to tell you, Harry. I just want you to be aware of the very real possibility that he really is covering for them. I want you to prepare yourself."

* * *

Draco and Harry decided to attend Hermione's pre-celebration celebration, which quickly became so large that it classified as its very own celebration, to get their minds off of the upsetting news. Harry had funded much of the evening, including plenty of booze and food to go around, so that the entire party was sloshed and stuffed before long. Ron especially was behaving abnormally, and Hermione had to snatch yet another glass of firewhisky from his hands as she scolded him for being drunk. The only two who remained sober, Draco soon realized, were himself and the pregnant Hermione.

She displayed her scorn for the slobbering creatures around her by shirking their attention whenever possible, and had positively beamed when she found out Draco had refrained from drinking as well. Though she made a valiant effort to not cling to Draco, he became more and more accustomed to her hanging by his side as the night wore on. And he also became more and more accustomed to enjoying her company.

She was the first person in a long time he was able to have an informed decision about the newest breakthroughs in magic with.

"Well, the transfiguration research team has been doing spectacularly," she told him as they sipped their Coca Colas. "Lupin has been doing remarkably well in that field, it would seem he had a talent for it all along. And well, the _real _Mad-Eye is a natural, as well," she teased.

Draco blushed as he remembered the incident in their fourth year when the man posing as Mad-Eye Moody had turned him into a ferret. "Yes, well, Barty was pretty good, too bad he turned out to be a slimy git. But what about Potions, what advances have there been there?"

"Oh, Severus and Harry know all about many of those, you should really ask Sev one of these days."

Draco's misery welled within him at the thought of Severus, and he quickly changed the subject. "Will do," he murmured, then grinned and motioned toward Hermione. "You still have yet to tell me where you play in all of this," he chided. She beamed and took the bait, allowing him to steer the subject away from Snape.

It wasn't long after that that Harry made his way over to the chattering pair, obviously drunk yet still pretending not to be. He threw himself on the arm of the couch where they were seated then let himself slide onto his back until he was sprawled across Hermione's lap with his head in Draco's.

"Hello, darlings," he slurred, and peered up at them curiously. "You've been talking all night long, what've you been talking about?"

"How silly you look with your head all sloshing around with firewhisky," she chided.

Harry smiled. "But I'm celebrating _your baby_! You're going to have a son, why shouldn't I celebrate?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I think it's time to wrap up the party, Harry," she decided, and shoved him off the couch onto the floor. He giggled as he pulled himself back onto the couch and ended up mostly perched on Draco's lap.

"Yes, ma'am," he slurred. "I'll just get Draco here to take me home. Oh, that sounded awful. I meant that he'll take me back to my place. Okay, that sounded no better. He's _not _going to take advantage of my drunkenness," he slurred, looking at Hermione with an accusing glare as if to say "how could you suggest such a thing?"

Draco blushed as Harry curled his arms around Draco's neck. "Draco wouldn't do that," he continued. "He's a good lad. Up we go, now, Draco. I think I'm a little drunk. I'm not sure I should apparate."

Draco stood smoothly with Harry in his arms. "Right," he agreed, then dropped Harry's feet so that he was standing. "Then we'll take the long route, and you can walk off some of your drunkenness."

Harry whined. "But Dra-co! Dracy-wacy, Dray-Dray! You can't possibly expect me to walk the whole way home?"

Draco smiled at Hermione while Harry tugged on his sleeve like a petulant child. "Thank you for an engaging night," he told her honestly as he bowed over her hand. "I hope we can continue this conversation soon. For now, unfortunately, I have to get this lump of a drunk home."

Harry whimpered and whined.

"Of course," Hermione replied, and pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek. "I'm so glad you came tonight."

"It would have sucked being the only sober one," Draco agreed.

Hermione's smile was gentle. "Well that, too, but I'm honestly glad I got to really talk to you. Neither of us really gave the other a chance at Hogwarts, did we?"

Draco smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't suppose we did. I'm glad we talked tonight."

Harry finally managed to drag Draco away. The blonde followed Harry out the door and steered him in the direction of Harry's manor. To be perfectly honest, he wouldn't have minded apparating, but he thought that a pleasant walk would sober Harry up so that they could talk.

Harry was mostly leaning on Draco when the blonde relented and apparated them to Harry's home. He tucked Harry into his bed then moved to the door.

"I can't get it out of my head," Harry whimpered as Draco stepped into the hallway. "I can't understand how Snape could… could do this to me. How he could cover for those _monsters_!"

It was Draco's turn to be optimistic, as he saw that Harry was fast sliding into the emotional phase of his drunkenness. "Harry, maybe you're right, maybe Sev does have a perfectly logical explanation. We'll find out soon. We can go tomorrow to wherever the mark leads us, and we can find out once and for all what happened."

"I don't want Sev to be a traitor," Harry moaned, and buried his face into a pillow. "I don't want my mentor to be one of them."

Draco made his way to the bed and sat down upon it carefully. "Harry, don't give up on him yet. He's done some great things. He may not be a traitor."

Draco heard Harry crying into the pillow and his heart went out to him. "Come on, now, Harry, try to get some sleep. It's just the firewhisky that's getting you down. Don't get so upset. We'll find out soon enough."

Harry curled his arms around Draco's waist and cried against Draco's belly. "I hope he's not," he murmured again, before passing out.

Draco shifted slightly to test Harry's grip. When he felt Harry's arms tighten around him, he relented and shifted more comfortably into the bed. He tugged Harry further onto the bed and shifted so that they were face-to-face, tilting his head against Harry's. The dark man whimpered as Draco smoothed his fingertips across the livid mark Harry had kept all night. The sight still pleased Draco, though he knew he had no right to be pleased. He had marked territory that was not his own, and should feel guilty about it.

Yet no part of him found the desire to.

Harry writhed slightly as Draco ghosted his lips across the mark one last time before surrendering to his own exhaustion.


	40. dancing just beyond your fingertips

_A/N: Reviews encouraged. Since I got a few reviews so quickly for Ch. 38, here's a treat. I wasn't going to finish updating if nobody was reading. Thanks for the warm welcome, guys. Much love._

* * *

Harry woke to tremors of pleasure jolting through him, originating at his throat. He moaned as he came fully awake, only to find a sleeping Draco tracing circles around the bite mark he had left. That simple action, however, aroused Harry more quickly than he would imagine possible, and Harry had to force his hands not to clench, as they were delved within Draco's hair. He withdrew his fingers and gently moved Draco's hand from his throat, before sliding from the bed, his entire body trembling with desire. He scowled at the slumbering blonde. He had to have known what he was doing, Harry mused. There was no other reason for him to have been tracing the mark.

Harry made his way down to the kitchen blearily. He realized after he removed himself from the pleasure of feeling Draco's soft fingers on his mark that he had a vicious headache as well as an upset stomach. He rummaged in his cupboards for a hangover cure but his eyes refused to focus well enough to find one.

"Hangover cure's on the counter," Draco announced cheerfully as he strode into the room several minutes later.

Harry winced at the volume of his voice. "Shhh!" he chided, and gripped his head. "Not so loud!"

Draco grinned and lowered his voice. "I put it out last night, when we got in. I figured you'd see it," he explained, and shrugged. "I didn't figure you'd be so very blind."

Harry simply scowled.

Draco handed him the small vial with a grin, and Harry's scowl deepened. "I hate happy people," he groused, and tossed the potion back before stumbling back to his room.

The blonde laughed.

When Harry returned he was freshly showered and changed and in a much better mood. He followed his nose to where Draco had brewed coffee and cooked pancakes and sausage.

"Dig in," Draco announced. "I'm gonna go grab a shower."

"Third door on the left," Harry reminded him through a mouthful of sausage he had snagged directly off the platter.

Draco roamed the manor leisurely as me made his way back to his room. He smiled around at all of the clothing still only partially sorted and sprawled everywhere in the room. After snagging a black t-shirt and black jeans he made his way into the bathroom to enjoy another lengthy shower.

When he made his way once more into the kitchen he found Harry with his head down upon the table. He was left again wondering whether Harry even realized he was fingering the serpent, which was tickling its tail along Harry's chin.

"Alright, Harry?"

Harry looked up miserably. "We're going to do the recon today aren't we?"

Draco nodded slowly. "If you want to," he agreed.

That raven head dropped onto the table as Harry let out a groan. "We have to," he murmured, and raised his head with much difficulty. "I think we should take Dean along, just in case…"

"The more we have along the more likely it is that we'll be seen," Draco interrupted.

Harry grunted.

"And if we _do_ get caught, do you really want to be responsible for his life?"

Harry's horrified eyes flew to meet Draco's. "Then neither are you going!" he snapped out. "You said you can get us there undetected, don't you _even_..!"

Draco nodded and waved away Harry's argument. "Get you there, yes, but after we're there? I don't know what will happen."

"Then we bring the whole crew!" Harry snapped. "My detachment took those slimy sons of bitches on the first time, they can damn well do it again! Especially because they'll have had two years to get comfortable and think we'll never find them. We'll have the element of surprise as well as a better force. We'll go in fully cocked and loaded."

Draco seemed to shrink the more furious Harry got, and it wasn't until Draco curled his arms around his middle that Harry realized his own voice had swelled into a bellow.

"Draco, damnit, I'm sorry," he moaned, immediately contrite. "I'm not meaning to get so upset, it's just that… losing those prisoners and my women… and you… was _the_ worst point in my career. In my life! I can't risk them slipping away again."

Draco nodded, but looked no more comfortable. "Hell," Harry groaned, and tugged Draco closer. He forced the blonde to meet his eyes and winced at the shyness he found there. "I'm sorry, Draco. Truly, I am. I didn't mean to scare you."

Draco huffed. "I'm not scared _of _you, Harry. I'm scared _for_ you. I'm scared that if we go in there with all we've got then we'll set off all kinds of alarms and traps. I'm just scared you'll lose some of your men and you'll have to live with that, and I know you won't take to it well. I just… I think we should do recon and then go from there."

Harry sighed and clutched Draco's arms. "You're right," he sighed finally, and slid his hands down until he clasped Draco's hands in his own. "You're right, of course. We'll do recon. If you can get us there undetected then we'll just be very careful. Just the two of us, we'll go figure out what's going on."

Harry felt like he was going to throw up as he and Draco readied themselves. What was he thinking? He was traipsing off to, it was rumored, some island full of Death Eaters. But Draco was confident he could get them there undetected, and Harry trusted Draco.

As Harry linked hands with Draco to apparate, his mind raged with the threat of a thousand possibilities. What if…

The moment they touched down, Harry felt a violent shock wave drag at his magic as a trap snapped closed around it. He fell to his knees and felt Draco's hand slide from his own.

"Father," he heard a voice rasp, and the alarms in his mind tolled double-time. He bit his lip to prevent himself crying out, but only succeeded in drawing blood. His body felt as though it was being pulled in a hundred directions by a hundred spells, and as a result could hardly breathe. Pain swam within every cell of his body, and his vision blurred harshly. Finally he was able to blink the pain from his vision and raise his eyes.

His startled eyes landed on a smug Lucius Malfoy holding his son's face tenderly.

"No," Harry rasped, and pain of a different kind filled his heart. No, it couldn't be.

"Well done, Draco. I always knew you'd bring Harry Potter to us one day," Lucius purred.

Harry had never felt like such a fool in all his life. He should have known better than to trust the famed Death Eater's son. He was an idiot to have believed Draco's act for a moment.

Memories flitted through his mind unbidden.

Draco's torture.

Draco's promises.

Draco's tears.

Draco's recovery.

Draco's thanks.

Draco's insistence that they come alone.

Draco's insistence that Snape could be covering for the Death Eaters.

Draco's attraction to Harry.

All lies.

The weight of the reality came crashing down upon him within moments. He had trusted the blonde from the moment he had known who he was. He had been so sure that anybody who was in the House was a loyalist. He had been so sure that Draco's proclamations in Padma's defense had been so noble, so redeeming.

All lies.

Harry seemed to replay every moment he had spent with Draco in those first few moments of looking upon Lucius, trying to determine what all was a lie.

Certainly Draco's attraction to him. Had Draco ever been raped? Surely Draco hadn't been in the House for two years. Was Maxamno a plant? Was Drowry a plant? Was Mike?

Where did Severus truly play in all of this?

Harry's mind ripped through the facts in a frantic attempt to make sense of it all.

"No," he panted. "No, no, nonono, you _bastard_!"

Lucius's eyes flicked to Harry. "Draco, step aside, I've got a bit of unfinished business with this brat."

Harry's eyes slammed closed and he tried again to block out the pain. But no matter how much he fought away the pain the traps sent trilling through his veins, he could not hope to block out the pain of betrayal.

Harry forced his eyes open despite his agony. His eyes stabbed through Lucius's, not willing to look away, not willing to look into the eyes of the man he loved, not willing to look into the eyes of the man he had trusted so blindly.

"Stand, Potter," Lucius snarled.

His eyes fell closed. He couldn't look upon that face. He remembered all of the times he had seen young Draco in that face, and in that moment it was just as terrible as looking into the eyes of the younger Malfoy.

The memory of Draco looking upon himself in the mirror floated through his mind.

Bollocks.

He dropped his head and clutched at his throat as through to force breath into his pores. But he did not care any longer. He did not care to breathe, he did not care to laugh or live or cry or think. He did not care to remember or to dream, he did not care to _know_, to know anything, to know Draco, to know himself, to know his friends.

The thought of Hermione's unborn child flitted through his mind.

His godson.

His godson, who he had never met, would never meet.

He did not care to care, he did not want to remember. He yearned to block every thought from his mind. He burned to clean his mind. He longed to forget.

He tried to forget the honesty he had, he realized, imagined in Draco's eyes.

He tried to forget the love, the trust, the comfort.

He tried to forget holding Draco in his arms.

He tried to forget Draco kissing him softly as he, Harry, pretended to sleep.

He tried to forget Draco's fingertips grazing the mark he had made.

He forgot himself. He forgot everything he had ever been, yet could not bear to forget that dazzling blonde. He forgot his life-long friends, but could not forget the feel of Draco's lips on his own.

Harry dimly heard Lucius demanding that he stand.

The serpent slithered against his skin, weighed heavily against his neck.

But his life had lost purpose. His life had become a lie. His life had become a charade put on by the Malfoy pair. His life had become a game, a joke.

He had become a toy.

Draco's toy.

Draco's doll.

He had yearned for so long to have the blonde's love. He had daydreamed for hours of the blonde, hated himself for lusting after the victim of such atrocities.

Yet it appeared Draco was no victim.

He curled his arms more tightly about himself. It felt as though his torso was ripping in half, his heart being dragged to the surface, his ribs being punched aside. He felt his entire body scream with the agony of betrayal.

"Crucio," a cold voice rasped, and Harry didn't bother to brace himself for the impact. What difference did it make? He had died the moment he had realized Draco's betrayal. He had endured more pain in the moment of hearing Lucius praise his son than he ever had before or ever would again.

What difference did the silly spell make?

"Expelliarmus!" The word was barked furiously in a voice that seemed to hold the very weight of death within it.

The physical pain eased slowly from Harry, though he continued to writhe in agony. He curled into himself, willing the tremors away, and concentrated on breathing. He had no idea what was happening in the world around him, nor did he care to find out. Draco had betrayed him, he was going to die, he refused to beg for his life.

"Draco, step aside," the same deadly voice commanded.

Harry forced his eyes open.

"Sev?" he asked weakly.

Severus was suddenly kneeling beside him, his eyes and wand still trained on the pair before him. "Harry, stand up," he snapped, and nudged the trembling youth.

Harry's eyes fell closed once again, no longer able to remain open.

"Harry, stand up, now!" Severus snarled, and dragged at Harry's arm. He pressed Harry's wand into his limp fingers. "Stand up and fight, Harry, God damn it!"

Harry remembered a time when Voldemort had asked the same thing of him.

He had thought, for a moment, that Sev had come to save him, but what if he was with _them_?

Harry remained where he was. He was no longer interested in who was on who's side.

"Draco, stand _aside_!" Severus snarled, and Harry heard a shuffle of feet. "Harry, son, please. Stand up, you're fine, you've felt worse."

"Never worse," Harry moaned.

"Of course you have, Harry," Sev snapped. "You're fine, just _get up_!"

Harry clutched his wand but made no move to stand. "Draco with Lucius," he managed, and his mind swam with memories.

Memories of Draco's imprisonment.

Impressions.

Impressions which told of Draco's torture, Draco's hell.

Impressions which told of Draco's honesty, Draco's prayers.

Impressions which told of Draco's screams for Harry.

Impressions which were not fooled by polyjuice.

Impressions which could not lie.

Harry raised his head and struggled to sit up.

He pressed his hands to the ground beneath him, and it felt as though he was trying to lift the entire island off of him rather than lift himself off the island.

His eyes found Lucius.

Alone.

Lucius was alone.

His eyes roved to Draco.

Trembling.

Draco was trembling.

Draco's eyes were locked on his father, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes wide with fear, with horror, with pain.

"Draco?" Harry moaned.

Draco's eyes flew to his.

Honesty stared back at him.

Fear. Agony. Fury.

What the bloody hell was going on?

Sev helped Harry to his feet with much difficulty. Harry clung to Severus, confused and wounded.

First he'd suspected Severus.

Draco had fed that mistrust.

Then Lucius implicated Draco.

Who was he to trust?

For the moment, he was sure of nothing but the wand in his hand.

He took a few shaky steps away from Sev and pointed his wand at all three of them.

"What… the bloody hell… is going on?" he demanded carefully, fury rippling through his every nerve ending.

At least it chased away the pain, Harry mused.

"Harry, what are you doing? Why are you pointing that thing at _me_? Are you mad?"

"No, I'm not mad, I'm _pissed_! What the bloody hell is going on?"

Severus eyed the wavering wand warily. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

One step at a time, Harry decided.

"Why didn't you tell me you could trace the prisoners using your Mark?"

Sev lowered his gaze. "Because I took care of it."

Harry glanced around himself. There were no other Death Eaters around. Where were they all, and how had Sev "taken care of it"?

"I knew you wouldn't condone murdering them, even though they were the foulest sons of bitches to ever sully this planet, so I took it into my own hands."

"What did you do?"

Sev glared at Lucius. "I found out where they were getting their supplies from and stopped it. Stopped it all. The water, the firewhisky, the goddamned cookies. I stopped it _all_."

Harry's eyes flicked to Lucius. "Then how do you explain _him_?"

Severus nodded once. "That's exactly what I was wondering. I thought for sure I had frozen all of their contacts to the outside world. I'd rather like to know how he managed, myself."

Lucius simply glared.

"How do I trust you?"

Sev turned wounded eyes to Harry. "If you wish it, I will take veritaserum. All I wonder is why you do not trust me already. Why do you doubt me?"

"Draco thought of using the Dark Mark within moments. He pointed out that it was rather suspicious that you hadn't yet."

Sev sneered at the youth.

"I'm sorry, Sev," Draco whispered. "I don't know _who_ to trust anymore."

"Shut up!" Harry snarled, and Draco's trembling redoubled.

Lucius's laugh spilled through the gathering, and Sev and Harry both steadied their wands on him.

"Shut up!" Sev, Harry, and Draco growled at him.

Draco returned his attention to Harry. "I swear to you, Harry, I didn't realize it would be a trap. I swear it, Harry!"

"Then why did you insist we come alone?"

"I _told you_ why! I thought I could get us here without alerting them, and I thought we could do recon. I wasn't lying, Harry. He's just a crackpot old fool! Look at him, he's a raving lunatic!"

Harry did look at Lucius. The calm, cool, collected Lucius Malfoy had given way to something that was in no way sane. His eyes were wild and darting, his hair and clothing dirty and ragged. He looked like a man who had lived alone in the woods for a very, very long time.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know what to believe," he responded, and his eyes searched Draco's.

"Harry," Sev interjected carefully. "I do not think that Draco holds any ill will toward you. Perhaps it is as he said. I do not know what transpired before I arrived, but young Malfoy has long shunned the teachings of his father."

Harry clenched his eyes. "So, what he said when we came…"

"Was madness!" Draco insisted. "I…"

"Didn't object!" Harry snarled.

"Because I was terrified!"

Harry glared at the elder Malfoy. "Speak. Or die."

Lucius laughed. "My son follows my footsteps," he insisted. "He is as guilty as I am."

Harry wasn't sure what do believe. He had seen Lucius holding Draco's face within his hands.

What had Draco been doing?

Had his hands really been clenched?

Had he really said "father" as though it was something vile?

Had his body really been leaning away from Lucius?

Could it be?

Harry eyed the fury in the younger Malfoy's eyes. "He's lying, Harry!"

Of course he was. Had Draco been guilty, his father, despite being a heartless ass, would have wanted to get Draco off the hook so that he could follow through with their vile plans later. But Lucius had claimed Draco as his accomplice, knowingly volunteering Draco for imprisonment if not death. Lucius would not have done so if Draco was truly a traitor to Harry.

"You're lying," Harry snarled.

Draco paled. "Harry!"

Harry waved his objection away. "I mean Lucius," he growled impatiently. "He's lying about you being with him. Come here, Draco, get away from him."

Draco scrambled to obey. "I'm so sorry, Harry, that I was too afraid of him to help you. It's just… he's… he's been dominant to me for so long. He's been so fucking… cruel… for so fucking long, and I… I just…"

"You're fine, Draco, just shut up and stay beside me."

Severus cleared his throat. "Harry?"

Harry met his eyes, questioning.

"Friend or foe?" Sev clarified, motioning toward himself.

Harry snorted. "I believe you, Sev," he assured the elder wizard. "You're too much of a goddamned _softie_ to be a Death Eater."

Severus damn near snarled. "You're dead when this is all over, Potter," he threatened.

"Severus? Death threats? Not so good with the convincing me you're on my team," Harry pointed out.

Severus shrugged. "Hell, Potter, if I kept puckering up to you you'd _know_ something was up."

"Business as usual," Harry chuckled.

"Business as usual," Severus agreed.

None of them had seen Lucius creeping toward his wand, nor did they realize when he raised it to strike.

"Avada kedavra!"

Draco and Severus lunged, too late. The jet of green light streaked toward the smiling Harry. Harry hardly had time to let his smile melt into a gasp before the deadly curse was upon him, let alone lunge out of its path.

The silver serpent around Harry's neck slithered like a shot down Harry's shirt and swallowed the jet of green light. It flared red for a moment before its mouth opened once more and the same vibrant green spell shot out its mouth, careening toward Lucius.

Harry, Draco, and Snape stared in shock as the green jet slammed into Lucius.

Lucius didn't get much of a chance to stare. He simply died.


	41. and taunting a reaction from your soul

_**A/N: I really do appreciate you guys communicating with me in any way you so desire. I cannot stress that enough. I really appreciate you guys. It means that you're reading and that you feel strongly about my story, which I should know to take as a compliment. For someone to feel as strongly about my stories as I do is a delicious, lovely treat. And by your interest and furvor, I am humbled. **_

_**First of all, I'm sorry I appear to be deviating from what you guys wanted. But I could really use some love, even if the story isn't following the arc you wanted. However since it seems to be a consensus, I will try to make some changes in the story. Like I said I do already have it complete, and my main fear is that if I try to do some major changes I'll do what I did before and get overwhelmed and quit, but I'll make an effort to switch some things around to appease the masses ;) **_

_**Some of the issues that a few of you mentioned are already being explained in later chapters, hopefully to your satisfaction, but I will admit the locker room scene is probably not satisfactorily explained in the end, so I'll give a little spoiler. There is some sort of magic involved. I never went into it very far, but that's mostly because I never really thought that it was too OOC for Drake. That scene was edited in about 50 different ways in the last week, and even when I posted it I still wasn't 100% happy with it, but I couldn't get it to sound right, so in the interest of continuing the story, I just put it up. I either had Harry looking like an asshole or Draco looking like a rapist. The scene was just… heavy. And I hoped that I had written it convincingly, because I could feel the turmoil in Draco as he did it, this desperate, confused, and beaten mentality that, because of his past, had him lashing out in a rather unexpected way. But obviously, I failed in that scene. Please forgive me, I am humbled by you guys' ire. **_

_**And I'd just promised myself to lay off the A/Ns.**_

**_Much love._**

* * *

Draco was trembling again.

His father was dead. Lucius Malfoy was dead.

He found himself on his knees several feet away from his father, his hands clenched in the leaf-covered dirt.

His father, the man who had attempted to mold him into a cruel, unfeeling, evil bastard, was lying dead, by his own hand. The Great Lucius Malfoy had been taken out by a spell from his own wand.

Draco stared at his father, not able to believe it.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, comforting, consoling. His heart stuttered at the touch. Harry always knew when to come to his side.

His wide eyes twitched away from his father's corpse to find Sev crouched at his side.

"Draco, are you alright?" he asked gently.

Startled, it took Draco a moment to realize what Sev meant. He glanced over his other shoulder, seeking Harry, who he expected to have come to his side. Yet Harry was already making his way through the trees beyond Lucius, and paid him no mind. Draco couldn't help the furrow of confusion in his brow that showed a pang of disappointment, before he brought his mind back to Severus.

Had Sev thought he had been injured? No, he understood, Sev was concerned for his mental well-being after having seen his father murdered before his very eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Draco, I never meant for that to happen," Sev murmured, and Draco could see the guilt in his eyes.

But Draco's mind was elsewhere. "It worked," he found himself saying, and wondered at his own sanity. His father had just died. Shouldn't he be upset? "It actually worked!"

The elder wizard cocked a brow. "What do you mean?"

"The snake, the snake my father's uncle gave me. He told me to give it to someone I lo… I wanted to protect. And that it would do my will and protect them. My father knew what it was, he knew how my uncle had bewitched it, he knew that it was meant to protect the wearer, that's why he took it away, after all, and still he attacked Harry! He's a right fool," Draco finished, excited.

"That's… incredible, Draco," Sev put in hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Draco asked, genuinely confused. "Do you think I'd be truly upset about my father?" He took a moment to assess his own emotions to confirm that no, he was not. "Sure it's… weird, but he's… he's a cruel man, Sev, he was always cruel to me, and he tried to _kill Harry_. Several times! So no, I'm not upset, not really. I'm just… I'm glad the snake did what it did."

Sev let a smile touch his lips. "You saved his life with that thing, Draco," he offered.

Draco seemed to brighten. "I did," he agreed.

Sev tugged Draco to his feet. "Draco, that's truly remarkable," he stated, and pulled his godson into an embrace. "I'm proud of you, Draco."

The blonde cocked his head as he stepped from Sev's arms. "Whatever for, Uncle?"

"For being able to overcome your father's influence," he replied, and sighed. "I only wish I had been able to do the same, all those years ago."

Not sure how to respond to that, Draco glanced to where Harry was, roving the nearby landscape. "What is he doing?"

"He's trying to find the other Death Eaters. He's already called for backup, they'll be here within…"

Sixty men and women appeared in the clearing.

"…moments," Sev finished lamely.

Draco smiled and watched as the team fell into their routine search. He watched them work their way around the island, each as methodical and patient as the next. They fanned through the trees and began a circular search, widening their radius each time about.

Sev motioned for Draco to follow. "You may as well see how they work now," he pointed out with a slight smile. "You'll be joining them next time."

Draco couldn't help the grin that stole across his features. "Yes, sir," he responded, and found Dean easily among the crowd of aurors.

"I'm sorry about your father," Dean offered immediately.

"Thanks, but I'm not," Draco responded, and followed Dean and the others as they made their way toward a building halfway hidden by trees and vines.

Twenty feet away from the building, Harry froze. "Death," he said simply, and shook his head. "They _are_ dead."

Sev eyed the aurors. "I had nothing to do with anything," he told Harry softly, hoping not to give the ministry yet another reason to mistrust him. Having been partially responsible for the death of thirty would-be-prisoners was not exactly a good mark on his record. "Looks like Lucius killed them all in a fit of rage."

The younger wizard chuckled. "Of course not," he muttered. Then he raised his voice to be heard by the others. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, be cautious as usual but I'm ninety-nine percent sure we're alone on this island. There are bodies to be processed. By the looks of things, Lucius went a little crazy and killed all of his men."

Sev cocked his head but did not question the youth. He knew that what he had done was terrible, one of the worst things imaginable. He had, for all intents and purposes, killed thirty men who, though evil, were defenseless.

And Harry, the most noble of all aurors, was covering up his crime. He had expected to have to reason with Harry for hours before the youth would go along with his idea. The noble Gryffindor would not willingly condone vigilante justice on a normal day.

Apparently having nearly been killed by someone he thought was dead long ago only to have said someone kill _himself _in the process did not constitute a normal day.

Sev tugged Harry to the side. "You're sure about this?"

Harry's eyes flicked to Draco, who was following Dean nearby to learn the ropes. "You're going to have to help him, Sev. I don't have all the time in the world to deal with him, and you're the only other person he trusts. I'll need you there, and you being in prison for doing what anyone in their right mind would have done in your position just doesn't make sense."

The elder wizard eyed Harry speculatively.

"Harry, he didn't mean to betray you."

"Sure."

"He felt terrible about what nearly happened."

"I know he did."

"He simply was terrified of his father."

Harry's patience and false understanding snapped. "I nearly _died_ thinking he had betrayed me, and when I had, what do you think would have happened to him? To you? To the rest of the wizarding world? Lucius would have been free to do whatever the hell he wanted, because Draco couldn't find the heart to say 'leave him alone' or 'stop' or 'don't' or something, anything! He just stood there and let his father do as he pleased. I just would prefer it if my men were a little more willing to defend their comrades. I had no reason at all to suspect he was on our side until he said he was. I know it's not his decision, and I know it's his father's fault, but _damnit_ Severus he has _got_ to get himself back in order before he goes out on stuff like this. If that had happened with some of my men around, they could have died, and why? Because he couldn't suck it up and step away from his father."

Sev's eyes, which had been narrowed in fury, flew wide, and Harry's voice screeched to a halt. He and Sev had both heard in the same moment a gasp, and seen someone dart away from them, tears dancing in his silver eyes.

Dean was glaring furiously at the pair. "You're both such idiots! Why are you talking about this_ now_?" he snapped, then stormed off to complete his job.

Harry growled and shook his head. "Just leave it, Severus, I've got work to do."

"No, you have got to go see to Draco. _Now_."

"I'll explain this to him later, I haven't got time for all of this now."

Severus couldn't believe his ears. In that moment he knew had never been so furious with the hotheaded young wizard in his life. He could hardly breathe through the indignation pulsing through his veins. He gripped Harry's shoulders and forced his back against a nearby tree, leaning close to Harry to snarl his words into the boy's arrogant face.

"Harry Potter, you bigheaded buffoon, you are _not_ going to stand there and act all holier-than-thou because you're able to stand up to your fears impeccably well. I get it, Draco froze and nearly cost you your life, but you have _got_ to realize that his life has been in no way easy!"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Gee, and mine has been sunshine and dai…"

"Shut up before you say something even more foolish! You're unbelievable! When you were one year old you lived through an attack by the most powerful wizard the wizarding world had ever seen! I know you feel as though that had no effect on you but you have to think about it. You've always taken life by the horns because of it, Harry. You've always depended on your luck and your wit to get you out of impossible situations. But Draco has never gotten a break, he's never had luck on his side. His father was a right bastard! I understand that your uncle and aunt were cruel. So was his father. But at least you got a reprieve from them when you went to Hogwarts. Draco never did. His father was a constant oppression throughout his life, Harry, including when it came time to join Voldemort! His father was all he ever knew, he was taught from a very young age to obey his father and his Lord utterly, lest he be punished terribly. And I do mean tortured, Harry. So don't you dare stand there and act as though you blame Draco for what happened, I know y…"

Harry scoffed.

"Harry Potter, stop trying to pretend to blame Draco and be honest, if only with yourself. You're mad at yourself for having doubted him. You're mad at yourself for having been duped by a raving lunatic. You're mad at yourself for letting his suspected betrayal hurt you so badly."

"And you," Harry snapped. "I doubted you, Sev! You! You're like a father to me, and I repay you by turning my wand on you the first time there's a suspicious circumstance."

"You're too smart to feel guilty about that," Sev responded calmly. "You know that I don't blame you for doing what you were trained to do. You're programmed not to trust utterly, Harry, that's the only reason you're still alive. You're not a fool for having mistrusted either of us, you'd have been a fool to trust us blindly. Look at Mike!"

"Look at Ron!" Harry returned hotly. "Every time I turn against someone I love, I'm wrong! Ron was innocent as well as you and Draco were. It's stupid! I should have learned to trust my closest friends by now."

"Harry, you're the target for a lot of animosity and every time, someone has given you a good reason for your mistrust. At least you've learned to listen to reason and the voices of those who love you. You did not shun me or Draco for your suspicions, and you believed us when we told you the truth. It is only natural to mistrust to a degree, Harry."

Harry sagged against the tree and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I've got to do my job, Severus. Just… just leave me alone. I have a lot to think about."

"Just remember, though, that you're the reason he came on this mission, which was unsanctioned and unofficial, and known only by you and Draco. So think about whose fault it was that Draco was in the field before he was ready."

"He seemed ready, he asked to come along!"

"Don't you think he just wanted to prove himself to you?"

Sev released his victim and stepped away.

"You're a fool not to go to him immediately," he snapped, then stormed away before Harry had a chance to respond.

Harry growled after his retreating back, but did not follow. Instead, he threw himself into the work laid before him, and forced himself to forget the blonde for the time being.

But as usual, it didn't last.


	42. which you'd kept locked away

_A/N: I hope I didn't scare you guys away from reviewing. Sorry about the long A/N last chapter. I still need reviews to live. Plx? Kthnxbai._

* * *

Harry arrived back at his manor to find it deserted. He sighed and fell against the door he had just closed, his mind torn between frustration and worry that Draco had not returned, for though Harry had the feeling Draco was avoiding him and simply off pouting somewhere, there was a distinct possibility that Draco had been held up as well. Harry was afraid to let himself think it, yet two of Draco's past tormentors had already returned to stake their claim on the blonde, who was to say that no others would?

Harry resigned himself to wait. Draco claimed to have nowhere else to go, so he would have to return eventually.

Wouldn't he?

Harry shook that thought away. Of course Draco would return.

When, three hours later, Draco had not returned, Harry could not contain his fear any longer. Throwing a pinch of floo powder into his fireplace, he stuck his head in and bellowed "Snape Manor!"

Severus was reading the _Daily Prophet_ in his sitting room when Harry's head popped up.

"Ah, Harry, I figured you'd pop in eventually," he said coldly, folding the paper deliberately. "Anything wrong?"

"Draco didn't come home! All his stuff is here and he's not come back, I've waited three hours but he's still gone. I'm worried he was taken again, there were…"

"Harry, be quiet," Sev interrupted coolly. "Draco is fine, he came here."

Harry's mouth opened and closed incredulously. "And you didn't _tell me_? I was worried sick! What if something had happened to him, what if..?"

Again, Sev cut in before Harry could work himself up. "He for some reason wanted to know how long it would take you to notice his absence," Sev admitted. "Which is why I didn't tell you that he had gone."

Harry scowled. "He was testing me?"

"He was testing you," Sev agreed.

"To see whether I would worry?"

"To see whether you would worry."

"And you went along with that?"

"And I went along with that."

"You're a right prat!"

"I'm a right… hey! It wasn't my idea!"

"You should have told me, you knew I'd be worried!"

Severus's voice became increasingly cold. "You told me that you had no time for him any longer, that you only kept me out of prison so that _I_ could 'deal with him.'"

"That's not what I meant!" Harry insisted. "Didn't I say that anyone in their right mind would have done what you did?"

Severus glared at him.

"Sev, I didn't mean that was the only reason I didn't report you! You know I wouldn't have! You did nothing wrong, well, nothing _too_ wrong!"

"Nothing _too_ wrong!" Severus exploded. "I made the vacation of _your_ prisoners a prison and you say I did nothing _too _wrong?"

Harry bristled. "Well you did kill them, Sev, but aside from…"

"So what if I did! How many people did I save by killing them?"

"You should have reported them, Severus! You should have told me where they were located."

"Why, so you could get yourself killed? Anyone who set foot on that island would have endured the traps you did, Harry! I didn't know the exact spells they'd put up, so I had no way to know how to protect you against them, and they would have throttled you! Imagine what happened with Lucius happening to all of your men. They had more traps and alarms and sentries than you could have possibly overcome!"

"That's besides the point, Severus!"

"_No it is not_! I thought I'd lost you once, Harry, I was _not_ going endure losing you again!"

Harry was taken aback. "What do you mean, you thought you'd lost me?"

"Don't you realize, Harry? Don't you realize how removed you were after Draco and the others vanished from under your nose? You tore yourself apart day in and day out! You were damn near suicidal, Harry, and every day that I had to see you that way I thought that it would be the last I ever saw of you!"

Harry was speechless, and guilt swept over him. "I'm… I'm sorry, Sev. I never knew."

"Well you are a fool, then!" Sev snapped. "You sit on your high horse and you don't realize how much your silly self-sacrificial ass scares the hell out of the lot of us who care about you!"

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was choked with a wash of water in his mouth. Sev had doused his fire in water to expel Harry from his home, and by the time Harry had relit the fire and forced his way back through, Sev had gone.

Harry returned to his own hearth feeling like the worst asshole in the world. He had never known how strongly his depression had affected his loved ones, nor had he realized how judgmental he was in fact being of Sev's actions. Severus had been acting in Harry's best interest, and Harry had spat in his face.

He crawled to his couch and draped himself across it, still dripping water, forcing himself to think on what he'd done. His mind roved his own actions, picking apart his mistakes and weighing his options.

He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of an owl pecking at his window. He jolted to open it and was startled when the owl dropped a package on his foot before landing briefly on his shoulder. With an indignant hoot, the owl snapped its beak sharply on Harry's ear then swept back out the window.

With a wince, Harry growled and clutched at the ear, feeling for blood. Satisfied that the owl had not in fact broken the skin, he reached for the package. He had never seen an owl be so deliberately violent.

"Bloody bird," he groused, before realizing how very like his uncle he sounded.

He tore open the package to find the clothes Draco had been wearing, freshly laundered and ironed, folded within. His eyes narrowed as he found a note tucked in the neckline of the shirt.

_Harry,_

_These belong to you. I have no desire to infringe upon your hospitality any longer than I already have. I apologize for having been such a hassle for you, and hope that you are able to return each of the items you purchased, for I no longer desire to wear the clothing you grudgingly bought me. I will be living with Severus and borrowing clothing from him until such a time as I can afford to live on my own._

_ Draco_

Harry swore emphatically as he threw the package across the room without noting the damp spots on the page.

* * *

Draco couldn't sleep yet again. It was the third day since he had left Harry's manor, and he had not been able to sleep a wink since.

He missed the way Harry would sing him to sleep or simply hold him tightly until he was able to sleep. He missed the scent of Harry, the way it alone filled his nostrils as he lay wrapped tightly within Harry's grasp. He missed the sound of Harry's breathing by his ear, missed the deep thrum of Harry's voice against his body. He missed being wrapped within what he had let himself imagine was Harry's love.

He missed _Harry_.

Severus had had to resort to shoving sleeping draughts at him to get him to sleep, but Draco had no desire to force himself into bespelled sleeps. So he had avoided the potions, hoping that he would eventually get so tired that he would simply have to learn to sleep on his own. On the fourth restless night, he downed the first of the potions. His mind had rebelled against the unnatural sleep, but had eventually succumbed. He had no other choice.

But even in his sleep, he missed Harry.

* * *

Harry's patience could only last the span of five days. He waited for some word from either of the Slytherins, yet nothing came. He sent countless owls, tried several times to floo in, and even attempted to send Dean in his place. Each time, his attempts were swept aside. But finally his patience snapped. They could not ignore him forever. One of them had to leave the house eventually.

"Severus!" Harry snarled, pounding on the front door of the elder wizard's home. "You snarky old son of a bitch, let me in! I've got to talk to you and your charge, man, we've got to get this settled once and for all!"

The door remained stubbornly closed.

"Severus, you can't hide out forever, we've got to talk about this! I know, I fucked up, big time, but I'm sorry! I'm trying to make it up to you, don't keep away from me!"

Nothing.

Harry screamed wordlessly in frustration and propped himself against the doorjamb.

"Fine, then I'll wait. I've got all day. I'm telling you, I'm going to see you two fools or else I'll just wait."

He slid down to the brick porch and propped his arms atop his bent knees. His fists clenched and unclenched, frustration and desperation pulsing through his veins as he worked to reign in his temper.

"I'll wait as long as I have to," he groused, and elbowed the door one more time for good measure. "I'll wait."

Severus found him asleep against the door several hours later.

"Harry!" he exclaimed as fear jolted through him. Was the boy hurt? Why was he there? Severus rushed up his walk to the young man's side, falling to his knees and shaking Harry awake. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry woke immediately and locked his gaze on Severus. "I never meant to hurt you, Sev."

Severus let out a relieved sigh and sat back on his heels. "Merlin, Harry, I was worried you were hurt! You're such an idiot! Don't you do that to me again!"

"I had to come to apologize."

"You're a complete idiot."

"I know, but I had to make you see how sorry I was. You left before I could."

Severus growled.

"Severus, please, you have to understand, I never meant to offend you, and I never meant to hurt you. I never knew. I never…"

Severus rolled his eyes and stood.

"Sev, please!" Harry gasped, scrambling to his feet. "Please, just listen."

"I forgive you, Harry. You're a lot of things, but you aren't an asshole, I know you didn't mean what you said to sound as it did. Your only problem is you're too damn noble."

Harry sighed. "I am, aren't I?"

Sev tousled his hair. "You are."

"So we're okay?" he asked hesitantly, hoping.

Sev snorted. "We're okay," he agreed.

"So can I talk to Draco?"

"No."

Harry whined. "Sev, please!"

"That isn't my decision."

"Yes it is, you could let me inside."

"Draco asked you not be allowed to see him, I must respect his wishes."

"No, Severus, don't you see how important it is I speak to him? He's just mad, and only after I speak with him will he calm down. Please, I _need_ to speak to him!"

Severus shook his head sadly, his sympathy plucked by Harry's misery. "Harry, I wish I could, but I can't go against his wishes. He's upset, yes, but he's not self-destructing. If anything, being upset with you has driven him to improve himself at a rapid pace. He's been to several job interviews already, and is working hard to get his life on track. Surely you must understand how important that is for him?"

"And what about my life, Severus?" Harry asked meekly. "I… I can have no life without him, not now. I… I need him, Sev. I need him to forgive me, because I need him to be in my life."

Sev sighed heavily. "Harry, you realize what you're asking of me?"

Harry clutched his arms. "Please, Sev. I just want to talk to him, face-to-face."

The elder wizard groaned and shook Harry's hand off. "Just give me one minute to talk to him. I have to make him realize something before he will even think about seeing you. Otherwise he'll just shut you out the moment you come in, and that will only damage him more. Just wait."

Harry narrowed his eyes threateningly but could make no argument. At least Sev was trying.

Severus made his way to Draco's room immediately, and smiled at the frustration evident in the blonde's stance.

"I look like an idiot," said blonde fretted, smoothing the robes for the thirtieth time.

Severus dusted the shoulders and shook his head. "You look stunning, my boy," he corrected, his voice warm and fatherly. Draco tossed him a thankful smile and straightened the robes once more.

"Am I making a mistake?" he asked for the thousandth time. "Should I be doing this?"

Severus smiled at the worried youth and patted his shoulders comfortingly. "Draco, Fudge has assured me that you'll be in an office far removed from Harry. You won't have to ever see him again if you don't want to."

But rather than comfort the youth, he became more agitated, and Sev resisted the urge to pump his fist and pat himself on the back.

"That's what I mean, Sev," Draco moaned, and collapsed atop his bed. "What if I'm wrong in avoiding Harry? I understand that he was upset, he had every right to be, I nearly cost him his life by being overconfident that I could get him in undetected. He had every right to turn on me!"

"No, he never turned on you, he simply mistrusted you. It is completely up to you whether you ever forgive him. Punishing him by ignoring his owls and floo calls is effective for making him miserable, if you so wish it. He deserves it, after what he said about you in the woods."

Draco sat up abruptly. "No! I'm not trying to make him miserable, I'm only trying to find my own path without using him as a crutch. I'm only trying to…"

Severus smiled. "Of course you are, Draco. That's reasonable, of course. You have to cast him aside if you're ever going to get anywhere on your own."

The flustered blonde groaned and fell back upon the bed. "It's not about that," he corrected meekly, and forced himself to his feet reluctantly. "Well, I've already told Fudge I would work for him, and I'm going to be late if I don't get going. I'll be home at seven."

Severus smiled and nodded, secretly pleased with his own genius and Draco's willingness to trust him. He escorted Draco to the fireplace so that he could floo to work, then made his way back to Harry.

"He's gone for now, but he'll be back at seven. You can either wait or come back. He's thinking about what's going on, so he'll be in a better mood later. Or in a worse mood, possibly, but either way he'll have a better handle on his own mind so he'll be willing to listen."

Harry growled. "I have to go to work, Sev! I was hoping to talk to him _now_!"

"Well, you came at a bad time, today is his first day at the ministry so he refused to be late."

"At the ministry! So he's going to take the position anyway?" Harry's voice showed his excitement with the idea.

Sev winced, reluctant to crush the hope in Harry's green eyes. "No, actually, he requested a place in a department far away from your own. Fudge assured him that he wouldn't have to deal with you at any time. I'm not sure where he is, but it won't be a good idea to go looking. He'll only get upset."

Harry growled but had no choice. He had to report back to the ministry, or give Fudge one more reason to resent him.

* * *

"Just what the ruddy _hell_ is that!" he screeched, and slammed his hands upon his desk. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department didn't think they should take care of that?"

The muggle news was showing one of many stop lights which inexplicably kept turning all of the lights red, causing many traffic jams as well as some very frustrated electricians.

"Well, at least it's not turning them all green, which would be a real danger," Dean offered.

"Bollocks! This is ridiculous! Arthur must have quite the incompetent fool working today, for this to have gotten out of hand this way!"

Dean kept his mouth wisely closed.

Harry snarled and stormed from the office, stomping his way to the Muggle Artifacts office.

"You ruddy fool!" he yelled as he slammed his way through the department door, making his way to the office of the dispatcher. "Don't you know how to keep track of the muggles better? Now we're going to have to…"

He froze utterly as he saw who was sitting, startled yet furious, behind the desk.

"Draco?" Harry snapped, and took a shocked step away.

"Harry," Draco snarled, and stood abruptly. "Get out."

Seeing the blonde for the first time in five days sent his heart tap-dancing.

"Draco, no," he backtracked frantically, realizing the impression he had just made. "I didn't realize…"

"Get out."

"Draco, please, I wanted to talk to you…"

"Get out!"

"Would you just…"

"_Get the bloody hell out of my fucking office_!"

The cold rejection in the blonde's eyes was too much for Harry to bear. His tattered pride was in no mood to swallow this new insult, and as quickly as he had changed attitude upon realizing who he was yelling at, he switched back.

"No!" he snapped, and glared at the infuriating blonde. "This department answers to me just like any other department, and as a member of this department, _you_ answer to me just like _any other member _of this department. Now you are going to get your men on this _right now_ and you're going to come up with a way to cover this up!"

Draco was flabbergasted. "E… _excuse me_? I answer to Arthur Weasley, not you! You're in the criminal department, you're not even…"

"Oh, sure," Harry cut in. "Technically. But as you said when I got you out the House, Draco, _I'm_ the real one in charge here. Fudge is just a figurehead. Virtually every department here answers to me!"

Draco slammed his fists against the desk and shook his head. "Not anymore! Get your ass out of my office!"

Harry sneered and spun on his heel. "It'll be _your_ ass if this gets out of hand, Malfoy," he tossed over his shoulder, and stormed back to his own office, his hopes of speaking to the blonde at seven utterly dashed.

Draco, he was sure, after that outburst, would never speak to him again.

* * *

"I was perfectly right to avoid that troll!" Draco snarled the moment he spun into Sev's floo grate. "That smarmy son of a bitch had the balls to come into my office and demand I follow his directives!"

Sev blinked hard. "You and Harry spoke today?"

"Yelled, is what we did!" he corrected hotly. "That stupid 'I'm everyone's superior' attitude and he came waltzing into my office insulting the way I do my job! It's my _first bloody day_!" His voice cracked, just a bit, on the last word, but he ignored it and wrapped his rage about himself like a blanket.

Sev sighed. "I'm sorry, Draco," he murmured, and patted the irate youth's shoulder. "I'm sure he's just frustrated and hurt. Give him time, he'll come around."

"No, I don't want him to come around! I want him to stay away; far, far away, until I can pluck up the courage to do what I want! I want to kick his ass, but he'd smear me all over the office."

Sev shrugged. "I suppose that is possible. But I doubt you _really_ want to hurt Harry. You're just upset with him and wish he would understand you." Draco tossed him a withering glare, and he relented. "Well, maybe not. It's your life," he offered, and backed out the door. "I'll see you at dinner in an hour."

"I'm not hungry!" Draco yelled after Sev, and collapsed onto his bed. He was too angry to eat.

The moment the door clicked closed behind Severus, fat tears of dismay welled in Draco's eyes. His temper had managed to chase away most of the pain he felt from Harry's treatment, but lying alone on his bed, the temper fled and all that was left was the pain. Draco curled onto his side and gripped a pillow to his belly, muffling his cries within the mound of cloth and stuffing. Harry's scorn had stung, badly. He'd wanted so badly to make a good impression with the ministry, some traitorous part of his mind thinking that maybe, one day, Harry and he would be on better terms again, and he would be able to transfer to Harry's department. It had been the only reason he'd taken the job, of course.

Yet now, his heart ached with the reality of his situation. Harry would never accept him now.

* * *

Within Harry's first week back, it was decided that they could once more transfer his detachment's headquarters to his home, and the team returned eagerly to their old offices. Harry had had his house magically expanded to allow for sixty small but very nice offices, as well as a number of extra restrooms and bedrooms to allow for the extensive hours some of his men and women put in.

As a result of headquarters being in his home, Harry's days, during the fight against Voldemort, used to last much longer than the typical twelve-hour work day his team put in on a busy week. Instead, his job became a twenty-four hour one, during which he supervised his men at rotating intervals. Harry had gotten very little sleep on busy weeks, which hadn't bothered him in the least. He had enjoyed his job, been happy to overlook the constant shifts of his men and had welcomed the demands on his time.

But he had had two years to adjust to sleeping regularly, and as a result, was not nearly willing to forfeit every minute of his time to the ministry. As it was, he was stretching himself thin working at both the ministry and his potions shop. The shop had suffered in his absence, and he knew that he would have to work extra hard to make up for it.

So it was with great reluctance that he threw his every waking hour into his jobs, and the strain it put on him quickly caught up with him. Though initially he managed to sleep a fortunate five hours most nights, he quickly whittled himself down until he only slept a pair of hours between brewing potions and overseeing his detachment. The strain made him aggravated and short-tempered.

He didn't even realize his motives for throwing himself into his work. He simply convinced himself that he was too far behind in both careers to pause. But they had several months' back-stock in pre-bottled potions by the end of the second week, and the ministry was begging Harry to stop digging up old cases before the first week was out.

Harry didn't realize how self-destructive he was being, though his men watched on in confusion and fear. He was wearing himself out through work, exhausting himself until he collapsed on the spot and dragging himself to consciousness not an hour later, only to repeat the performance within a few hours' time. He was destroying himself by abandoning his health to the health of his chosen careers, and his men had no way to stop it. But not even they knew the true reason behind Harry's careening sense of self. Not even Dean could identify the root of the problem, though they could see Harry was clearly depressed.

Only Severus and Ron knew the true issue, and both made continuous efforts to convince a certain pair of stubborn men to speak to each other once again.

Severus tried everything he could think of. He tried pleading with Draco, he tried using guilt against Draco, he tried using reverse psychology on Draco. But nothing worked.

Ron knew he was running his head against a brick wall but plunged on anyway. He tried the same tactics on Harry that Sev tried on Draco, also to no avail. Harry simply waved his concerns away and sent Ron off on some "urgent errand" or another.

Neither of the men made any headway whatsoever, but neither of the men was willing to relent.

* * *

Draco dropped his head against his desk and sighed. He was getting used to his job at the ministry, but he still didn't particularly enjoy it.

His dissatisfaction had nothing to do with the job itself. Working for Arthur Weasley was much better than he had imagined, as well as more rewarding. He enjoyed the purpose of his job, and was pleased to learn of the many responsibilities he would have as a dispatcher of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. As it was, he enjoyed the _idea _of the job, he just didn't enjoy certain unavoidable aspects of the job.

Such as working, indirectly, under a Harry Potter who had had his pride wounded.

Harry took every opportunity to ridicule Draco's work, and the worst part of it all was that Draco couldn't even confront Harry for doing it. No, it was always an indirect insult, for Harry made certain to ignore the blonde's existence utterly. He would send peeved letters to Draco's department, and each time he found something in the department lacking, it was something Draco happened to be responsible for. Arthur was beside himself trying to figure out how to further train the boy he already thought was doing a spectacular job of things, and was becoming increasingly annoyed with Harry's judgment. Having no knowledge of the conflict between the two, he was oblivious to the reasons behind Harry's displeasure, and could find no way to appease the temperamental youth. He constantly put himself on the line for Draco's perceived mistakes, but Draco was getting tired of having Arthur told off by a man who was young enough to be, and who was treated as, his son.

It was this constant occurrence alone which prompted Draco to entertain the idea of a confrontational visit to Harry's office. Yet his resolve was not set until a certain Severus Snape visited his own office.

He bit his lip and rolled his head along the top of the desk, tired and frustrated with the latest insult to his job. However the moment his door swept open, Harry's letter was swept from his mind. It was Severus, and he was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Promise to answer two more questions with perfect honesty and I'll leave you alone," Sev stated immediately, and Draco eyed him warily.

"I answer your little questions all the time, Uncle. What's so special about these?"

"They're very important. I want you to _promise_ to answer them with one hundred percent honesty. Okay?"

Draco didn't trust the serious note he heard in his godfather's voice. "No, I won't. You'll tell me the questions and _then_ I'll decide whether I want to answer them."

Sev spun on his heel immediately. "Okay, never mind," he tossed over his shoulder, and vanished.

The curiosity of what the questions could possibly be nagged at Draco's mind for the next two days. He performed his job to the best of his abilities, but his mind kept coming back to the two "very important" questions his godfather wanted to ask of him. What could they be, and why had Sev prefaced them with a demand for a promise of honesty?

His curiosity finally got the best of him, and on the second day, after Sev had brought him lunch in his office, he demanded to know the questions. "Not until you promise to answer them honestly," was Sev's infuriating response.

Draco sighed and nodded. "Fine!" he snapped out. "I promise to answer your silly little questions honestly, just tell me what they are, or I'll burst!"

Severus had never looked so mischievous. He tapped his fingertips against those on the opposite hand and cocked a brow at his godson. "Are you sure?" he asked coyly.

Draco nearly snarled. "Yes, Uncle, just ask me the ruddy questions."

Sev sat up straighter. "There are two that you _must_ answer. I will specify those two. There may be one in between which you have the option of answering, or you may have the option of changing your answer, though you must re-answer with _complete _honesty. But I will specify the two you _must_ answer. Do you agree?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Alright. I agree. Spit it out."

Sev laced his fingers and leaned over them. "I am gay. Harry and I are in a relationship. Harry is gay. You _must_ answer this question."

Draco's lungs emptied in an abrupt breath. He sat back heavily in his seat and glared at his godfather. "That's potentially a very personal question, Uncle," he said coolly, but Sev was unperturbed. He simply stared at the blonde eagerly, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Answer it," Sev prompted after a moment, when Draco was not forthcoming.

Draco wrinkled his nose at the elder man. "Why?"

"Because you promised," was the frustrating response.

"Why are you asking me this? What difference does it make?"

Sev tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders, but did not speak again. He simply continued to stare at the youth across from him.

"I don't think I can answer that, Uncle," Draco hedged.

Sev tilted his head the opposite way and narrowed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but that's just a bit personal, I simply can't answer that, you must understand that it's…"

Sev did not seem convinced.

"…it's rather upsetting, after…"

His voice died out as Sev continued to stare patiently.

Draco growled and dropped his head in his hands. "Severus, you're never going to speak to me again unless I answer this question, are you? You're just going to sit there and look at me like I'm kicking your puppy."

Severus nodded, once.

Draco snorted. "You're mental, Severus," he groused. "Fine, since I promised. Ah… Don't care, don't want, want."

He said it in a rush, wanting to get it over with and hoping Snape would leave quickly.

Severus simply smiled.

"Happy now?" Draco prompted.

"Here is your chance to re-answer, though I'll remind you that should you chose to re-answer, it, too, should be with complete honestly. Now, suppose that I bend the rules for this question. Suppose you have three of each answer to choose from, which could allow you to say, for example, want, want, want, or want, don't want, don't want, or something along those lines. What would you say?"

Draco nearly swallowed his tongue.

"You're… that's defeating the purpose," he attempted, his voice choked.

Severus tilted his head the opposite way. "It's up to you to clarify your answer," he offered, and waited.

Draco bit his lip, staring silently at Severus.

"This isn't fair," he objected after a long moment.

Sev smiled. "It's your choice," he responded.

"You making me answer that, I mean, in the first place. That's not fair. You know how much trouble I've been having with Harry."

"And I also know _why _you're having trouble with Harry," Severus added calmly. "You have the option of changing your answer."

"My answer remains the same," Draco snapped, impatient.

Sev smiled inwardly.

"Next question," Sev prompted sweetly, ignoring the blonde's snarl of objection. "Remember, you promised. The original rules apply. Only one of each answer. Now, the second question you _must _answer: Harry hates you."

"Don't want," Draco moaned immediately, and dropped his head.

"Harry thinks you're a wonderful friend."

"Want, but know isn't true," Draco put in, his voice once again clipped and cold.

"Harry is in love with you. Remember, only one of each answer," Sev prompted.

Draco gaped at the smirking wizard across his desk.

"No!" he bit out, and his voice echoed with his shock. "I won't! That's… you've gone too far, Severus!"

"I have not," Severus responded coolly. "You're perfectly capable of answering this question. I would not ask it of you if I did not know this to be true. But why do you think you've been moping for the last two weeks? You're missing him, Draco, and you have got to realize _why _before you can get over him."

Draco slammed his palms on his desk. "No, I've been miserable because he's been making my life hell by…"

"… not being in it," Sev finished for him, smirking slightly.

Draco growled. "No, that is not true. He's a right git and I don't want to have to deal with him any more than I already have!"

"Answer, Draco," Sev calmly requested.

"Well, it would seem that you know the answer to that question already, Severus!" Draco responded hotly. "Answer it for me, if you're so smart!"

Sev nodded once. "Fine, I will. You don't want Harry to hate you, relative to the third option you don't care whether Harry finds you a friend or not, and you _do_ want him to…"

"Shut up!" Draco screeched, and his chair toppled over in his fury as he stood abruptly. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He rapped his fists upon the desk with each furious word, then leaned over the desk, toward his godfather, his palms flat upon the desk. "Leave me alone, Severus, just get out and _leave me alone_! This is none of your business! You have no idea how much I wish I didn't need him to want me, Severus, but I _can't stop_!" He slammed the palms of his hands upon his desk with the last two words, fury rippling through his every nerve ending. "Damn it, I've wanted him since third year! He's like a fucking addiction that I got a taste of in the hospital but he's made it quite clear that he no longer wants to be a part of my life. So just leave it! Leave it alone! No matter what you think you know, you're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong!" Again his palms slammed into the desktop with each word of each repetition. "This isn't a perfect world, and Harry _doesn't love me_! He acted the part and pretended to care, but that all became clear when he trusted my sick fucking father's actions over mine! He wouldn't even realize how much it hurt me to have him push me away like that, to have him judge me and discard me and constantly deride me!"

Draco was trembling, his hands clenched tightly on the edge of his desk, and he couldn't stop the stream of words once he'd unleashed them. But he had kept it all inside for far too long. He had hidden from the world his real feelings, and he was sick of it. He was sick of people walking on eggshells around him because of what happened to him, and it came as a startling relief that Sev hadn't given in to his ploy at helplessness. At least Sev knew that he wasn't still just a broken doll, Harry's silly little cast-off Barbie doll which he had dressed up, played with for a while, then donated to charity in order to be rid of it. Sev knew he had gotten stronger. Sev knew he could think for himself.

And now, Severus knew that he was homosexual and in love with Harry Potter.

Great, Draco thought as he reigned his fury in. Just great.

He collapsed into his chair, which had righted itself, and dropped his head upon his desk to think.

"Draco…" Sev began hesitantly, but Draco cut him off.

"Please, Severus, I've answered your silly little questions, just go away. Please, just leave me be."

Severus sighed and gathered his things, then slowly made his way to the door.

He opened it and turned back to look at the youth, who looked suddenly defeated and exhausted behind the giant desk.

"Draco, you're wrong about him," he put in, then vanished before Draco could raise his head to object.

He closed the door gently just before a loud thud erupted as something large and heavy smashed into the door. Sev sighed as he heard glass break, but forced himself not to return. His presence was truly upsetting the youth, and he had no reason to remain.


	43. until suddenly the time is right

Draco's mind was made up. He was sure Harry had something to do with the latest issue in his department, as well as Sev's little question marathon. So he gathered his tattered pride and his courage and his temper and stormed to Harry's office with a determined stomp.

"Harry Potter!" he bellowed, and was lucky that for once Harry was in his ministry office. It was only after he felt that wash of relief that he remembered Harry was rarely actually in the office anymore.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry bit out, forcing his voice to remain carefully neutral.

"I need to talk to you. I'm tired of you criticizing Mr. Weasley for mistakes you _know_ are mine, and I'm tired of you criticizing my mistakes! I'm fed up with your constant stream of judgment and I want it to _stop_! Arthur tells me that I'm doing a damn fine job for someone so new, so you're going to just have to put up with the fact that I'm new and I'm not perfect and I can't live…"

Draco's voice lodged in his throat when he realized that Harry still bore his mark. He wondered furiously how he had not noticed and only then realized that Harry had been wearing heavy scarves and turtlenecks, despite the fact that it was not particularly chilly, every time he came into Draco's department. How it had not healed at least somewhat was beyond his grasp, as well.

"…up to your expectations," Draco finished weakly.

The silver serpent was still coiled about Harry's neck.

"Fine, I understand," Harry snapped, and turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk in order to hide the bite from view. The bruising was not healing, and still livid, which frustrated him to no end. He had even tried healing it himself, to no avail. The mark simply refused to vanish. Even the indentations of Draco's teeth had hardly faded. Harry suspected that there was more to the bite than was first apparent, but knew not what.

Draco shook his head to dismiss the shock of the find, and remembered his fury within moments. "No, you don't!" he forced out, trying to remember just what he had intended to scream at Harry, wondering what on earth this beautiful creature could possibly to do upset him.

It came back to him slowly. "And I don't appreciate you sending Severus in to do your bidding, he's been a right prick because of you, and I want you to stop!"

Harry raised a brow. "I haven't gotten Sev to do anything to you," he purred.

Draco shook his head again as though to clear it of the effect of Harry's voice. "You have, and I want it to stop. Just… just stop, and I'll leave you be. Otherwise, we're going to have some serious conflicts," he threatened, trying to make his voice level and cold but not sure if he'd quite managed it.

Harry stood from behind his desk and stepped around it, fury rising in him to ripple across his skin. "You need to not be such a belligerent asshole, Draco Malfoy," he snapped. "Your insubordination is not befitting a member of this ministry."

"Are you threatening to have me fired because I won't roll over and play your little bitch, Potter?" Draco screeched indignantly.

Harry sneered. "I wouldn't dream of firing you, Malfoy. But I assure you, I can make your life _very_ difficult if you don't straighten out."

For some reason that phrase caught Draco like a physical blow, and after a moment of shock, he strode forward furiously. He found his hands to be shaking, and hated himself for his weakness. He had wanted so badly for those weeks in the hospital to be a true indication of how Harry felt, but now this…

Draco raised a single brow as he strode closer to the dark haired man, fury vibrating in his every step. He wouldn't let himself feel the pain of Harry's rejection, not now. If he let himself feel the pain, he would flee in tears. As it was, he wanted to lash out at the cocky son of a bitch, wanted to put him in his place. He put himself directly in Harry's face, so close a door closing down the hall would have them touching, and spoke, his voice a low growl.

"Fine, then," he snapped, and shoved Harry until his back was pressed to the filing cabinets. The old Draco, the Slytherin Nuisance, the from-the-womb-follower of Voldemort, the snide, snarky son-of-a-bitch who by his very presence made Harry's life at Hogwarts a living hell, reared his head within Draco's soul, and prepared to use every tool at his disposal to reciprocate against the dark one's fury. He snarled, his lips pulling back from his perfectly white teeth, and tilted his head even closer to Harry's. Harry stilled utterly as Draco's lips hovered a bare fraction of an inch from his own, his heart freezing in his chest with the promise of a kiss.

Harry tipped his head and pressed his lips to Draco's with all the longing and frustration he had built up over the last few weeks.

Draco was so startled that for a long moment he did not respond in the least, but when he realized that Harry was kissing him, he returned the gesture with fervor.

Harry's lips moved against Draco's, and as the fury he'd been egging on fled him, leaving him a shell of desire in its stead, his hands began to move upward, to clasp the blonde's face. They were both breathing quite heavily, and Draco found that he had his own body pressing Harry into the cabinet. Harry wanted the world to stop, as his lips crushed Draco's and demanded his submission. Draco gave it to him wholeheartedly, submitting to Harry's assault while his hands tried to bring Harry even closer. His heart swelled with the beauty of finally having Draco's lips against his own without having to hold anything back. His tongue sought Draco's gently, the only gentle action in the fervor of the kiss, and the gentleness of the action seemed to freeze Draco in his tracks. Harry whimpered low in his throat, never wanting Draco to stop.

Then Draco tore his mouth away violently, and Harry was too startled to react. His soul was laid bare before the furious blonde, and he could not reel it back in time to retain his control when Draco's next words struck.

"So you think I'm being belligerent?" Draco demanded coldly, closing his right hand around Harry's throat, not choking, but the threat clearly there. "Well what would you ask of me, Harry? Would you have me let you shove your cock down my throat? I can call you Master if it'd please you, and you could…"

The coldly hissed words died in his throat as he saw the immediate effect they had on Harry. The dark-haired man looked as though Draco had shoved a blade into his back, and his eyes filled with horror and disgust. Draco watched as the words ripped through Harry, destroying his sense of self and what remained of his tattered pride. Harry felt tears fighting their way to the surface, dismay and horror warring within his mind. His mind flooded with Impressions from Draco's time at the House, the violence and hatred directed at Draco's helpless body. The men who wanted nothing more than to dominate others in any way they could, being the worthless scum they were, couldn't manage it in any other way than paying for an imprisoned whore. The hatred of the world's unwillingness to bow to their whims unleashed on the one forced to submit to them. Harry shuddered, utterly unable to resist the swell of Impressions slamming their way to the forefront of his mind. The images sickened him, but coupled with Draco's accusation, they were more than he could handle.

So the truth came out. Draco _did _think he was capable of what those men had done to him. He didn't register anything beyond Draco's choking halt in speaking, but by then the damage was done. Harry couldn't move because of the hand about this throat, and found himself taking tiny little gasps of breath as he fought to regain his wits. He shook his head as though he'd just come from deep underwater, and made a choking sound in the back of his throat.

His hands came up to slap away Draco's restraining fingers, revolted by the image Draco had created. Draco was too shocked by Harry's response to object, and he found himself shoved forcefully away. He stumbled away from Harry and had hardly regained his balance before Harry was out the door.

Draco let his fury slide away beneath his shock as Harry disappeared out the door, and suddenly had to fight back the urge to call after the fleeing man. His pride was not so flexible as that, though, and he forced himself to accept the consequences of his cold accusations. He couldn't resist moving toward the door, however, and what he heard made his heart ache. Harry's gags of revulsion and shock echoed from the nearby men's room, and Harry could be heard to whimper little gasps of pain between bouts of tossing his lunch.

Draco felt guilt slashing at his heart, and he almost tossed his pride aside and went to Harry. Yet he couldn't. He didn't know how to deal with this reaction. He had expected indignation, refusal, more fury, or a subtle realization of his stupidity and subsequent apology. Yet this, this was wholly unexpected.

"You're a fool, Malfoy," a voice nearby bit out. "Don't you see why your words affected him so harshly?"

He turned slowly to face Sev, who had apparently been just about to enter Harry's office when he heard their argument.

Severus strode toward him rapidly and shooed him back into the room. "Wait here, idiot boy. I'll go clean up your mess."

He flung a silencing charm about the room - the blonde had no business hearing in Harry's growing sobs what Sev knew he would say - and quickly made his way from the room.

Draco couldn't find the anger in him to protest; instead he blankly followed Severus's directions, his eyes wide and his entire body trembling.

At least, he did for a moment.

* * *

By the time Severus arrived in the restroom, Harry had almost spent his disgust, yet still his stomach raged. The sound of violent dry heaves met Severus's ears, but he did not hesitate. He snatched two of the towels from the rack and dampened them with cool water from the sink, then strode without preamble into the stall where Harry crouched, spent and trembling.

He knelt beside the youth and, gripping Harry's chin in his hands, turned Harry's face to him. Harry couldn't find the oomph to protest as Severus wiped his mouth with one of the rags then tossed it aside and dabbed the tears from his cheeks with the other. Harry welcomed the chill of the rags, his tears and his body's physical reaction making him feel as though he were on fire.

Severus silently dabbed away the tears and heat from Harry's face, renewing with a spell the coolness of the rag when Harry's heated cheeks warmed it. Harry's silent acceptance of his mothering broke Sev's heart; typically Harry would pitch a tantrum and insist he didn't need any help.

"I knew it," Harry croaked, breaking the silence. Sev felt as though a rock replaced his heart as he heard those three shattered words, and wanted to pummel the foolish blonde.

"No, Harry," he insisted.

"From his own mouth!" he insisted weakly. His voice cracked and creaked, and his tears renewed.

Wordlessly, Sev tugged the crouched man until he collapsed onto his ass, then pulled the shaking youth into his lap. Harry still didn't object; he lapsed into silent grieving.

"Hush, Harry, you know he was only trying to get a rise out of you. He didn't mean it. He would never really think you would want that, he's not so foolish as that."

Harry shook his head, but couldn't reply.

"You _know_ he was only trying to get a rise out of you."

"Every lie is bred from some small truth," he objected.

Sev shushed him and shook his head. "No, Harry, Draco doesn't think that way of you. You just have to understand Draco. You've been behaving like a right prick lately, the both of you have. And he's just frustrated because it's such a contrast to the you you let him see in the hospital. He thinks you see him as a toy you could cast aside whenever you tired of him, and you haven't given him any reason to think otherwise, to be honest. You've both been terribly stubborn."

"But he still… he knows how I feel about him, Sev, he has to, otherwise he never would have said what he did."

Severus sighed. "Harry, don't be so thick. You must realize that he feels for you?"

"No, he doesn't, he's obviously disgusted with what I am, how I feel about him."

Sev shook his head. "You're wrong, Harry. He wishes that you would treat him again how you treated him during his recovery."

Harry shook his head. "He's disgusted with me."

Sev knew he was taking a risk with his next point, but had no choice.

"You think he gave you that hickey because he was disgusted with you?" he asked coolly.

Harry shuddered and his hand reached up to hide the mark from view. "No, that was because of…"

"Just stop trying to rationalize everything and put the very clear pieces of the puzzle together already!" Sev interrupted. "You're both head-over-heels for each other, but neither of you are willing to take the chance to tell the other. He's convinced himself you only let him kiss you because first, you were asleep and then you didn't want to humiliate him, you've convinced yourself that he only gave you that mark because he… what, was _trained_ to show appreciation that way? Well it's not true, he hasn't been. His desire to put that mark on your neck, and keep it there, is purely because of his own feelings."

Harry paused to consider that.

Sev was just guessing at this point, but strongly suspected that he was correct. "You're not the least curious why he wanted you to leave that mark on your neck rather than heal it?"

Harry sighed. "He said it was because Padma had already seen it on me and would be suspicious if I healed it in the time she was away."

This part, both of the men had told him. "And when Luna kindly pointed out that Draco was the vampire in question?"

The youth had no response for that.

"You're too stubborn to even think it, but that man loves you, Harry."

Harry let out a growl of frustration and pushed away from Severus. "It doesn't matter, Severus. I know now how he really thinks, and there's nothing any of us can do to change that. Even if he wanted to, he could never have a relationship with another man because of his past. There is too much there."

"That's not true!" Sev insisted. "There are women who have been raped and have been perfectly capable of moving past it, given time and patience and love. Draco is the same way. His past does not influence his sexuality any more than it did before. If he loved you at Hogwarts, he will not suddenly be beaten straight. There are plenty of parents around the world who have tried that; it doesn't work. If Draco so chooses, he can in fact have a healthy relationship with whomever he wants."

"And I want you," a third voice chimed in, and Harry tensed.

"You don't know what you're saying," Harry protested, and pushed himself to his feet. Hiding behind the walls of the stall, he shook himself. He pulled the rag from Sev's hand and draped it over his neck, tilting his head back over his hand. "You don't understand the situation."

The pair within the stall could hear Draco shuffling his feet outside. "Yes, I do, now," he objected.

Sev smirked. "How much did you hear?" he asked, and slowly stood.

Draco paused for a long moment. "I… I think I left the office about three seconds after you did," he admitted.

Sev snorted. "You don't listen for shit," he groused. Harry collapsed miserably against the stall wall, and shook his head.

"Please, Draco, just leave," he begged, his voice once again choked with tears and misery.

Draco sniffed. "I won't," he decided firmly. "We have to discuss this."

"No, we don't!" Harry snapped, and slammed his way out of the stall, not sparing a glance toward Draco as he stormed from the room.

Sev followed closely, but halted just inside the restroom, blocking Draco's path. "Let him cool down some," he suggested. Draco met his calm gaze with a furious glare.

"Butt out, old man!" he snapped, and shoved past Severus. Sev allowed his lips to curve into a grin and let the impassioned youth press past him. Perhaps the unsteady pair didn't need his help so much as he'd thought.

Draco caught up to Harry outside of Harry's office and jerked him to a halt. He slammed the raven-haired man into the wall and smacked the heels of his palms onto the wall on either side of Harry to cage him in.

"Just listen, Potter," he demanded, his voice hard with command. Harry was startled to hear such conviction in the blonde; he hadn't been so stern since his ordeal. Harry quelled his natural instinct to knock the hands caging him away and settled back to listen.

When Harry offered no immediate response, Draco took it as acquiescence and spoke.

"Is there something about me that makes me unappealing?" he asked calmly, and Harry narrowed his eyes, offended by the implication.

"Is there something about me that makes me unappealing!" Draco repeated, getting frantic. He hadn't anticipated a "yes" from such a simple question.

"You told me just to listen," Harry responded petulantly.

Draco closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Fine. Listen and answer 'yes' or 'no' to each of the questions I ask you."

Harry snorted. "Fine."

Draco began again. "Is there something about me that makes me unappealing?"

"No," Harry hissed. "I want you as much now as ever."

Draco didn't relent. If Harry thought he was going to frighten him off, he had another thing coming.

"Just yes or no," he reminded Harry. "Do you hate me?"

"No."

"Are you disgusted by me?"

"I already said I want you!" Harry snapped.

"Yes or no!" Draco demanded harshly. Harry pressed back into the wall, chastened.

"Fine."

"Are you disgusted by me?"

"No."

"Do you want me?" Draco continued.

"I just said that!"

Draco's glare silenced him.

"Yes," he corrected icily.

"Do you care about me?"

Harry stilled, his tense muscles releasing their fury as he observed the fear in Draco's eyes. He raised his hand and ghosted it across Draco's cheek. "Yes," he whispered, and dropped his hand, ashamed.

"Are you disgusted by me because of my past?"

"No! You had no control over what happened to you!"

"Just yes or no," Draco requested softly, somewhat calmed by Harry's show of emotion.

"No," Harry growled.

"Do you understand why those men did what they did to me?"

Harry stilled utterly. "What do you mean?"

"Do you sympathize with them?"

"No!" Harry exploded, and his face showed his torment. "How could you think…"

Draco glared once again, and Harry fell silent.

"No," he corrected harshly.

"Do you have any other lovers?"

Harry raised a brow at that. "No."

"Do you… do you want to be mine?"

Harry's breath left him. "Yes." A whisper.

"Do you want to kiss me right now?" Draco rasped, and Harry could see the longing in his eyes.

"Yes." A breath.

"Will you kiss me if I tell you not to?"

Draco could see the anguish at that possibility flit across Harry's face. "No," he admitted, his face showing his displeasure.

"Will you kiss me if I ask you to?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No!" A miserable groan.

"Do you want to see me hurt?"

"No!" His fury rising.

"Do you still want to kiss me?"

"God, yes." A growl.

Draco's eyes, showing their displeasure.

"Yes." Chastised.

"Will you give me a chance to prove that this is what I want?"

"I don't know if…"

Draco's eyes, showing their displeasure.

Harry's mind, racing.

"Yes." Final decision.

"Will you be patient with me?"

"Yes."

"Will you let me set the pace?"

"Yes."

"Will you forgive me for hurting you?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

Displeased silver eyes.

"There's nothing to forgive." No relenting.

"Will you forgive me for taking so long to do this?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

"Yes or no!"

"Yes."

"Will you let me buy you dinner?"

Slow smile. "Yes."

"Do you still want to kiss me?"

"Yes." A moan.

"Are you annoyed with me?"

"No."

"Are you wondering how long I'm going to draw this out?"

"Yes!"

"Kiss me." A command.

* * *

_A/N: Please review, dearies. You don't even have to say anything deep or take much time, just let me know you're reading. I'd appreciate the effort. And I'd probably update faster if I kept getting reviews reminding me to do the edits needed for the story..._


	44. for you to let yourself feel

Harry's heart tripped over itself at the words, yet the memory of the fury of their previous kiss caused him to hesitate. Draco's eyes were patient, however, giving Harry permission to take his time in following the order. Scarcely daring to hope things were taking the turn they seemed to be, he was slow to raise his hands between Draco's encasing arms to clasp Draco's face tenderly. When Draco's eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, his tense stature seeming to melt at just the simple act of Harry gently holding his face, Harry's heart began to gallop for joy. Draco's head dipped to rest his forehead against Harry's, content to wait, and anticipate. Harry took the chance to gather his self control, not wanting to ruin this moment he'd so long ached for. He shifted slightly from his defensive posture and he leaned forward, tilting his head to angle his lips toward Draco's. When Draco showed no aversion, Harry allowed his lips to touch Draco's in the lightest touch. Draco's breath sighed across Harry's face, and seemed to encourage Harry, who became gently emboldened. He stood fully upright, his lips deepening the pressure by degrees, part of his mind terrified that Draco would once again pull away and spew his hatred of Harry. When nothing of the sort happened, Harry slid his hands to clasp the back of Draco's head, at which point Draco took his cue to move his arms from the wall to cuddle Harry against himself. At that motion, Harry became truly dedicated to the kiss, and he whimpered once before his tongue darted out to taste Draco's lips. Draco's response was a low groan, and their mutual pent up desire seemed to break over them at once. Draco's arms tugged Harry so tightly forward that Harry rocked up onto his toes, and he wanted to laugh in delight. His desperation for the feel of Draco's lips dampened the urge; instead he showed his glee through the movement of his lips against Draco's. The passion they'd both been denying built up behind their lips, a great wave of longing that, when it hit, would have the power to rid their minds of the existence of the rest of the world. Harry's heart ached with the promise of that moment, and even knowing that it would not happen immediately allowed him to cherish the kiss they shared all the more.

After several minutes which neither of them felt was sufficient, they broke apart, and Harry was given the chance to release the gleeful chuckle he'd been holding in. Draco's eyes were curious, but Harry shrugged it off. "You'd laugh at me too, if you could hear my mind."

Draco gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, and smiled. "Tell me."

Harry blushed, lowering his gaze when he felt the almost overwhelming urge to kiss Draco again. "It's just that I can't think of a happier moment in my life, right now."

Draco considered those words for a long moment, and nodded. "And that was only our second kiss. I hope I can continue to make you ever happier."

Harry gave Draco a sly glance. "That was our fourth kiss," he corrected.

Draco raised a brow at that. "Oh?"

"When you asked me if I was ok…" Harry began, and trailed off, knowing Draco would remember the gentle brush of lips after the affair with the vile redheaded journalist.

Within moments, Draco's gaze fell and he seemed to suddenly find his fingertips fascinating as he fidgeted. "I didn't think you would have noticed that," he admitted.

Harry had to laugh. "And… just before Sev interrupted us in the hospital…"

Draco's gaze flew back up to meet Harry's, his eyes wide. "He told you?" he gasped.

Harry knew that lying was certainly no way to begin things. "No, Sev didn't tell me. Draco, did you wonder why Sev seemed so incredulous that I was asleep?"

"Er… because of what I was doing…"

Harry felt comforted that Draco didn't seem too upset. "Well, no, more specifically, because he knows me rather well. See, I have to sleep with a fan or something on to drown out any little creaks or groans or outside noises that I may hear while I'm sleeping, because I'm a rather light sleeper…"

Understanding made Draco's eyes dance with amusement. "You were pretending to be asleep in order to have an excuse to make out with me?" he asked.

Harry's shoulders relaxed, and he realized how tense he'd become, fearing Draco would be offended. "Exactly. I mean, no, it was more complicated than that… but, yes. I didn't really know what you intended when you started messing with my hair, but I didn't want to let you know that I'd woken up, because I thought you might feel guilty."

Draco reached up to toy with Harry's hair in memory of the moment he'd decided to go forth with his desires, slightly. A smile lit his face. "You know, you're so beautiful when you're being careful not to make me feel badly."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he grinned goofily.

Draco's lips descended to plant a gentle kiss on Harry's scar. "Well, scratch that. You're always beautiful."

Harry winked. "Just don't tell the other guys, they're supposed to think I'm ruggedly handsome."

Draco's laugh didn't help with Harry's false wounded masculinity.

* * *

Sev wandered away the moment he heard the blonde take control of Harry with a smile on his face. The youngsters didn't need him meddling any longer. The blonde would take care of it for him.

He found himself nearly colliding with Dean, who was careening into the hall just as Sev was leaving. He quickly tugged Dean back around the corner, not sure what Dean would be able to see of the hallway from his vantage point.

"What do you need?" he asked as gently as he knew how.

Dean still shuddered. "I'm sorry sir, but I need Harry for just a minute."

"Harry's busy, come back later."

"No, sir, this is urgent, there was a…"

"Harry. Is. Busy. Come. Back. Later."

Dean opened his mouth and snapped it closed, his duty warring with his fear of the elder wizard. "Please, sir, I need him to…"

"Come. Back. Later."

"Then can you help me?" Dean begged, his fear of Severus not quite overriding his fear of the consequences of not bringing this matter to the attention of his commander.

Sev calmed. "If I can, then I will. What is it?"

Dean showed him the missive he had just received. "We just found out that the candles the gang of men at House of Serenity used were laced with a fast-acting, action-triggered poison. We suspect that some of the poison has entered Draco's bloodstream because of the whips. We have to ask Harry to be sure they were open wounds, but even if they weren't, the stuff is also designed to enter through the pores. Depending on how much got into his blood, he may be in serious danger."

"What poison was it? What the hell does action-triggered mean?"

"Meaning that depending on what the trigger was set to, once Draco performs a certain action or says a key word, the poison is released into his bloodstream. Once it's released, there is little that can be done for him."

Sev's eyes flitted to the hall. "What is the trigger?"

"One of the prisoners hinted that it had something to do with sex. They said that they never wanted their plaything to enjoy sex again. We suspect ejaculation is the trigger."

"What if it's simply an erection?"

Dean nodded; both of them were too harried to be embarrassed by the topic.

"Assuming it is, the moment Draco gets an erection, this poison hits him?"

Dean nodded.

Sev's eyes flew wide. "Shit!"

* * *

"Harry! I'm coming down the hallway, so you should stop whatever it is that you happen to be doing!"

Dean gave Severus a confused glance, but didn't question the elder wizard. He followed closely behind, his footfalls frantic.

They could hear Harry's laughter wafting from his office, and Sev was relieved to find that the two were reclining quite comfortably in his office chairs. "Sev, you're so subtle," Harry chided. Draco was blushing something fierce, and Harry seemed to be enjoying the blonde's discomfort immensely.

"Harry, Dean has something urgent to discuss with you regarding some developments with… some of your new acquaintances."

Harry quirked a brow. "Draco deserves to know whatever it is you've discovered," he gently scolded, and Draco's blush faded immediately.

"You mean some of my… some of my… uh…" Draco wasn't sure what to call the men who'd tortured him, and gave up, knowing Sev understood him anyway.

"Yes," Sev admitted. "Dean has reason to suspect that Draco may be in danger…"

"We've discovered that some of the candles have been poisoned," Dean interrupted impatiently. "And the poison most likely got into Draco's blood through the… wounds. We ah… we suspect that the poison is a potion triggered by some sort of physical action, and the prisoners hinted that it was something to do with some type of sexual behavior."

Comprehension dawned on Harry's face. "I see," he stated, and nodded toward Sev.

"They said that they… never wanted Draco to enjoy sex again."

Harry chewed his lip. "What can we do?"

"We're not sure. There has to be some type of counter-potion but until we find it, Draco has to be extremely careful."

Draco snorted. "I'm right here, guys."

Dean flashed him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Draco, I'm just used to reporting to Harry."

He shrugged his forgiveness. "I get it. I just want to be difficult," he winked, attempting to lighten the mood of the room.

"Get a team on finding out what the trigger is, and another on what we can do about it before it's triggered and another finding out what to do if it is triggered. I don't care if you have to borrow men from another commander, I'll take the repercussions. Just figure it out."

Draco grunted his objection. "Harry, calm down, you heard him, I just have to abstain from sex for a while, I can do that, you have all the time in the world."

"There's a possibility that it could be triggered by erection," Severus piped up.

Draco blushed. "Oh. Well, in that case, you should probably figure out like… now."

Dean coughed and shuffled his feet, embarrassed by Draco's admission.

Harry let out a startled chuckle, amazed with the ease with which Draco spoke about such a personal matter. The blonde surely had made some serious strides in getting closer to his old self. And that's when it hit him. He thought back to the times when Draco had called him "Potter" versus when he'd called him "Harry," and wondered if perhaps when Draco was feeling like him old self he fell back into their old habit of addressing each other by their last names. He eyed the blond speculatively, suddenly not minding the blonde's form of address.

Draco's eyes flickered to meet his, and he snapped back to the present.

"Is there a problem, Draco?" he couldn't resist teasing.

Draco quirked a brow. "Yes, Harry, there was. I believe you were having a similar problem?"

Harry laughed outright as Dean turned a bright red and widened his eyes at Harry.

Tactfully he decided to release Dean before he had a heart attack right then and there. But he couldn't resist one last jab. "Alright, just stick with what I said, Dean, and I'll try to avoid aggravating Draco's little problem."

Dean choked and made a break for the door, but wasn't able to get out it before he heard Draco's smooth voice retort.

"You'll have to give me a Dreamless Sleep Draught, then," he said decisively.

Dean tripped over his feet and had to catch himself against the wall.

"You alright, there, Dean?" Snape asked.

The younger man shook his head. "I'm going to pretend I heard nothing. I heard nothing at all."

* * *

Draco growled at Harry and tried to bat away the potion Harry was thrusting at him.

"I don't want to take any sleeping potions," he snapped. "I _hate_ sleeping potions. They always make me feel wonky."

They were in the room Harry had reserved in the event that Draco returned to live with him, where Harry had kept each and every article of clothing he had bought the blonde. He had even organized them in the wardrobe. Upon their reconciliation Draco had returned to live with Harry while he saved up enough money to get a place of his own.

"I don't want to take any chances," Harry defended.

"I've already been there," Draco reminded him. "Nothing happened."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"How about I just try to not have wet dreams about you?" Draco begged. Harry chuckled.

"That's not all that I'm talking about."

"I promise I won't have wet dreams about anyone else, either."

Harry growled. "You're an idiot, Draco."

Draco tossed him a devious grin. "Please, Harry?"

The raven haired wizard sighed. "You're incorrigible."

"I am."

"You drive me crazy."

"I know."

"You enjoy every minute of it."

Draco grinned wider. "I do."

"Why do I put up with you?"

Draco's grin was shyly lecherous as he leaned in. His lips brushed over Harry's for the briefest of instants, his breath ghosting across Harry's lips. Harry shuddered.

"Not fair," Harry objected, and forced his hands to remain at his sides. He'd promised he would let Draco set the pace, and wouldn't go back on his word so soon.

Draco's eyes flicked across Harry's suddenly tense form and smirked. "You promise not to touch me unless I ask you?" he asked sweetly. Harry clenched his hands into fists.

"Always," he agreed.

Draco grinned victoriously. "This could be so much fun."

Harry whimpered. "You're evil."


	45. The instinct to protect the ones we love

_A/N: For my reviewers, who keep me on track. Thanks for making me giggle, Lemo Smith! I'll do my best to keep my eyes *blinks innocently*_

* * *

A soft chuckle was his only reply. Draco pressed Harry's hands back, knocking the potion out of his hand in the process, and pressed his wrists together. "Keep your hands back here," he instructed.

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice. Draco pressed him into the office chair and towered over him.

"Good. Now, let's see…" he trailed off, his hands flitting around Harry's shoulders and chest, gracing him with feather-light caresses before fleeing again, never staying in the same place for longer than a moment. Finally decided, Draco settled his hands over the buttons of Harry's shirt. "We don't need this here," he decided, smirking. He tugged the shirt open and let it slither off Harry's shoulders, the soft fabric sliding along Harry's skin teasingly. It bunched around Harry's wrists, a gentle restraint, and Draco smiled. Harry sighed.

Draco dipped his head and placed a gentle kiss along Harry's collar bone, his eyes rolling up to look Harry in the eye. His tongue darted out, a flicker of pink, and left a burning trail along Harry's throat. Draco nuzzled Harry's neck, willing him to bare it further, and smiled when Harry's head dropped back as though boneless. He nipped at the pale flesh presented to him then immediately soothed the pinch with his tongue, massaging the flesh of Harry's neck with tiny circles. He continued on up Harry's throat, nipping and licking, until Harry was whimpering softly.

His tongue burned a path across Harry's jaw, his exploration leading him to Harry's lips. He claimed them gently, his soft urgings driving Harry insane. Harry whimpered and had to clench his fingers tightly together to resist moving his hands, and before long his arms developed a tremor where he held himself rigidly in check. Draco's seeking mouth had made its way down his throat again, and opened wide to clamp fully onto the mark. Draco pulled softly, a gentle suction, and Harry growled.

"Enough," he moaned, and gasped when Draco's only response was to suck harder.

"Stop, I…"

"Shut up," Draco demanded, and ghosted his hands over Harry's waist.

Harry had to force his hips to still in order to prevent himself from bucking into Draco's hands. "Stop! I…" his voice was barely a moan, and Draco smirked at the lack of real resistance.

"Shut up."

"You may want to… be careful. I haven't exactly led a healthy…"

Draco closed his long fingers around Harry's erection. Harry yelled out and his hips raised off of the chair.

"Don't _do that_!" he objected. "I'm going to…"

Draco grinned at him. "Just because I have to be careful of what I do doesn't mean you do. You can do whatever you want."

"No, that's not right, I don't want it to be like this."

Draco shook his head. "Don't worry, it won't be. Just let yourself feel."

"No," Harry insisted, and tugged against the fabric tangled on his wrists. "I can't let it be like this."

Draco relented. "Alright," he agreed, and stilled Harry's movement. "I'll chill. I'm sorry, I didn't realize it would upset you. I just wanted to please you."

Harry offered him a smile and slid his wrists free. He raised a hand and brushed his fingertips over Draco's cheek. "You always please me, Draco. I don't need… that… to be happy with you. I want it to be special with you."

Draco lowered his eyes. "Sex means little to me, Harry," he admitted, and couldn't meet his eyes. "After… well, I doubt I'll really ever value it again. All I am is a whore, so why not…"

Harry's sudden firm grip on his shoulders made him tense up, his silver eyes flying wide.

"Don't… you… ever say that again, Draco. You're not just a whore. God, Draco, do you have any idea how much you mean to me?"

Draco's eyes were innocent. "I'm not worth…"

Harry slid his hands up to Draco's face and pressed a finger to his lips. "You're such an incredible man, Draco Malfoy, don't you realize that? You're the epitome of beauty and you're… you're…"

Harry brought his lips closer to Draco's, breathing his next words against Draco's delectable mouth. "You're the most desirable man in the world, and yet you're worth holding off. I want so badly to kiss you. I want to hold you in my arms. But you're worth waiting. You're worth every moment I wait for you to be ready, because I don't want you to ever think you're just a kiss to me. I never want you to think you're just a lick. You will never be just a fuck to me. If that's what you're looking for, then you've come to the wrong place. I love…" his voice cracked but he didn't care "…you, Draco Malfoy. You are the man I want dedicate myself to... I've always loved you."

Draco was trembling, his eyes shining with more emotion than he'd felt in his entire life.

"That means so much to me," he whispered, and dropped his head against Harry's shoulder, overcome. "You're so incredible, Harry. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Harry quirked his lips. "You were born." He tugged the blonde closer, sensing his need for his touch, and rested his cheek against the top of Draco's head. "You're so beautiful, Draco, and I don't mean just physically. You've got so much soul. You're so beautiful."

Draco nuzzled closer, his lips brushing Harry's ear as he leaned close. "The moment they figure out the solution to that poison, I'll be ready," he whispered.

Harry shook his head. "No, Draco, I want to wait until..."

"Harry, I'm terrified of sex. I won't ever stop being terrified of sex, at least until I have a reason to not be. I get terrified every time I kiss you because I'm afraid where it will lead. Not because I don't want you, but because... I've never... I've never been given the opportunity to enjoy sex. I've..." his voice trailed off miserably, and he floundered for words.

The raven-haired one sighed and clutched him closer. "I'm so sorry, Draco," he breathed. "I didn't realize... I don't want to rush you, so..."

"I think it will help," Draco insisted. "I don't want to have sex with you because I feel like I have to, or that that's all you expect or want from me, but because I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want to enjoy sex, Harry, and I want to know what it feels like to have an orgasm with someone I love."

Harry was once more startled by his frankness.

"After... after the first time, maybe I won't be so afraid, and we can go slowly. But I... I don't want to be afraid to kiss you, because I know that kissing you can be so enjoyable, if I can just get the rest out of my head."

Harry shook his head, incredulous. "We'll see when we figure out how to cure you," he decided, and Draco let the subject drop. They would continue the conversation when Draco was able to follow through.

Draco gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek then stood. "It's a deal," he agreed, then made his way from Harry's office quickly. Harry dropped his head to the desktop and thumped it twice for good measure.

"God, that man is going to drive me insane."

It wasn't until he went to stand that he saw the spilled bottle of Dreamless Sleep Draught. He scowled. "That sneaky bastard."

* * *

Draco leaned back against the pillows and celebrated his victory regarding the potion. He had managed to make it to his rooms without hearing Harry calling after him about the damn potion.

"Hey, Draco?" Dean called softly, hesitant to barge into the blonde's rooms uninvited.

"It's open, Dean," Draco offered, and smiled genuinely when Dean entered.

"Hey, I just thought you might like something to help you sleep. I know you and Harry were goofing off earlier but you seemed like you were really bothered by something."

"I'm alright," Draco assured him. "I don't need anything. Thank you for the offer, though."

Dean's face fell. "Oh, I made you some tea," he explained, and looked at the tea in his hands miserably. "I guess I just…"

Draco felt horrible suddenly. Dean looked so crestfallen he couldn't bear to turn his tea away. "I'd love some tea," he agreed. "I just didn't want you to go out of your way," he explained.

Dean brightened. "Okay. Here you go," he offered, and handed Draco the cup of tea. He bounced on his heels. "It's not too hot, is it?"

Draco wanted to strangle the eager-to-please man. He had been intending to pour the tea out. He didn't trust Harry not to have laced it. But Dean's question forced him to taste it.

"No, it's okay," he assured him as he tasted the drink carefully for the draught Harry had been trying to force on him.

"I'll take the cup when you finish," Dean offered sweetly.

Draco's smile was genuine, but he felt distrust niggling the back of his mind. He would never dream of accusing the open face of Dean, but he suspected strongly that Harry had slipped him something when Dean wasn't watching the tea.

"Sure," he agreed, and downed the tea. "Here you go, Dean. Thank you so much."

Dean's honest expression fled and he laughed, his smirk victorious as Harry strode into the room. "I told you!" he bragged, and held his hand out.

Draco couldn't help but laugh as Harry slapped a handful of galleons into his hand. "Yeah, whatever. Now get out of here."

Dean tossed Draco a wink. "Nothing personal, but he bet me I couldn't get you to drink that."

"I thought he had slipped something into it while you weren't looking, but I didn't want to offend you!" Draco declared with mock indignation. "You betrayed me!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "So dramatic! And all over some Dreamless Sleep. I SO did not need to be in on this situation."

The pair laughed as Dean retreated, and Draco narrowed his eyes on Harry the moment he left. "I should have known."

Harry smirked. "I'm just trying to keep you safe," he defended. "We have no idea how dangerous that poison could be."

Draco was touched. "How much did you bet him?"

"Twenty galleons."

Draco's eyes bulged. "You paid him twenty galleons just so he'd give me the potion?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah."

Draco laughed. "It wasn't worth all that," he objected.

Harry met his eyes. "I was worried about you."

The honesty in Harry's eyes thrummed his heartstrings. He gave him a hesitant smile. "Thank you. But I'm not going to take this shit again," he warned.

Harry laughed. Draco fell asleep.

* * *

Draco awoke hours later bathed in a cold sweat. His body ached with the effects the sleeping draught had on him, as well as the misery his nightmares had wrung from him. His mind was in turmoil, spinning through memories as though they were the present and flicking through torturous images of his tormentors. He clutched the sheets beneath him as though they would dispel his dilemma, his long fingers clenching in the folds of the tangled sheets miserably. He could tell he had thrashed about in his sleep; it seemed the dreamless sleep draught was not potent enough to fight away his brand of dreams, it only managed to ensure that no pleasant imaginings intruded on his hell. He whimpered into his pillow and forced his fingers to release the sheets, only to have them curl deep into the pillow he pressed against his face to muffle his whimpering moans. He felt tears seeping from the corners of his eyes and cursed himself for being so weak. The nightmares which had been kept at bay by the healing environment of the hospital - he was still trying to convince himself that it was the hospital itself, rather than his long-term, nearly-permanent visitor which had kept his nightmares away - had returned to him with a vengeance. He had once again been pinned beneath the weight of a nameless, faceless customer, his body broken and opened to any new pains which popped into the demented son of a bitch's mind.

_That is all behind you, Draco, calm down, _he chided himself furiously. He hated himself for being so very afraid, for feeling so very alone.

He forced his breath under control and found himself biting viciously down on the pillow, his jaw set and unyielding. He forced his jaw to relax and slowly was able to pull the pillow from his face. He had barely taken a breath when a long low moan erupted from his lips. He dropped his head against the pillow and abandoned his attempts to suppress his tears. He let his body release the pent-up tension and fear, whimpering and sobbing into the hapless pillow. Nothing in the world was more appealing, in that moment, than crawling into bed next to his raven-haired rescuer. Yet Harry had placed him in a room somewhat far from his own, and though he had made sure Draco knew where his room was, he had not implied that Draco was welcome to intrude. Therefore, Draco forced himself to control his deep urge to abandon his pride and his own room in favor of Harry's strong embrace.

The pain the choice caused him was nearly as wrenching as the memories proved to be. Within moments, Draco's tears because of the tight hold his memories had held him in ceased, only to be replaced by tears of abandonment and loneliness. Within moments his mind convinced him that Harry did not want him near, did not want him in his house let alone his room. The self-deprecation the creatures in the House of Serenity had drilled into him twisted his heart and soul until he was convinced that Harry found no pleasure in his presence.

But just when Draco's misery had overwhelmed him, just when his tears had exhausted him after wringing every bit of life from his form and sleep had begun to drag him into hellish nightmares of memories, the door cracked open. Draco caught his breath, horrified at having been caught in his weakened state. His back turned to the door, he waited, breathless, for his visitor to leave.

Not knowing who was looking in on him through that tiny slit of light sent his mind into a fury of imaginings. He imagined that one of his tormenters had returned yet again to finish him off. He imagined that Drowry had escaped punishment and had come to drag him back into her clutches. He imagined that he had never in fact left the house and even then was imprisoned within the walls of the House of Serenity. He imagined…

"Draco?" a soft voice entreated, and every fierce imagining and pain was swept from him, tearing a sob unwillingly from his throat. He bit his lip and attempted to contain them, but tears of relief and hope sprang to his eyes.

"Draco," Harry whispered once more, his heart breaking as he slipped into the room and closed the door softly behind him.

Draco did not respond, too choked by tears and emotion.

Harry padded across the room until he could gaze down at the pain clearly written in Draco's features. He slid hesitantly onto the bed, afraid that he would overstep his welcome and frighten the blonde. But as he slid closer to Draco and placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder, the blonde's tears abated. Draco buried his face into the pillow to wipe the tears away then slowly turned to look Harry in the eye. A beam of moonlight fell across Harry's eyes, the sole illumination in the room as far as Draco could see. The patient understanding he glimpsed there had tears blurring his vision once again, and he let them fall, let Harry gather him gently into his arms, let Harry gently kiss the tears from his cheeks and softly sing away the fears from his heart. Draco fell asleep to the sound of Harry's voice, once again wrapped within Harry's strong arms.

* * *

"Some of the men from the House of Serenity deserve to be punished."

The statement was spoken with grave implications, and Ron felt a chill jolt through him. Harry's voice was hard and unforgiving, furious and cold; the look in his eyes was solemn and a tad bit frightening, giving Ron the impression that he would not like what Harry had to say next.

Harry bit his lip, his eyes calculating. "I need you to do something for me."

Ron took a slow breath and blew it out abruptly. He had known this was coming, but had hoped he was wrong. But he would not deny Harry. He couldn't. "I'll do whatever you need, Harry," he promised.

"I'll do all the dirty work, I just want you to be the one that informs Fudge of a little spell…"

Ron's brow furrowed.

"You're going to tell Fudge that a well-wisher of Draco's put a spell on him so that anyone who was excessively violent or cruel or behaved in any way criminally was punished terribly. You're going to tell him that Draco informed you of the spell and that you questioned the guy and he admitted to it. You're going to tell Fudge that in return for this information you cut a deal with the guy to keep him anonymous and out of jail, since though the spell is most assuredly illegal if it were possible, he was not to blame for wanting to protect Draco. You're going to tell Fudge that he should alert any hospital or healer in the area to look out for anyone with an unexplained eruption of his testicles…"

Ron winced.

"… and to detain them without letting them know they're being detained until we can come arrest them."

Ron let out a shaky laugh. "You're… you're serious, aren't you?"

Harry met his gaze levelly.

Ron groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Will you at least tell me how you're going to find all these guys to blow their balls up?"

Harry snorted at Ron's phrasing but his eyes were still solemn.

"Many of them were upstanding citizens, like Avery and Mike. Others I looked up other ways. But I'll only target the ones that deserve it. If they weren't intentionally cruel to Draco, they'll go free. Even," he added, a look of regret on his face "some of the ones who hurt Draco through inaction. Any who starved or tortured Draco have to go down."

"But how do you know who's who?" Ron pressed.

Harry lowered his eyes. "Impressions."

Ron blew out another breath. "Oh, yeah."

Harry placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Can you do that? If not, forget I ever asked and I'll…"

"Is _any_ of what I'm telling Fudge true?" There was no question in his voice as to whether he would follow through, only question as to how much he would in the end be lying.

Harry squinted one eye in thought. "It's as true as it needs to be for you to sound convincing," he hedged.

Ron groaned. "Damn, Harry, I'm lying to the Minister of Magic for you."

Harry grinned wickedly.

* * *

Harry smoothed his hair and settled into the chair to wait. The first of his targets was set to arrive within moments, but his patience for this portion of his enterprise was thin from the beginning.

The instant he strode into view, Harry's entire body shuddered with recognition. He had started with the most vile of Draco's free attackers, a surly, twisted son of a bitch who had tortured Draco nearly as much as any one of Haiman's goons. Harry's heart ached with the memory of those powerful hands clutching about his throat…

_Draco's throat,_ Harry reminded himself deliberately.

… and the pain of a blade sliding into his ass. He closed his eyes in order to regain control of himself, clenched his fists in order to regain control of Draco's painful memories.

He blew out a slow breath and narrowed his eyes on the man reclining across the restaurant from him. He was of average build, average looks, average style, but Harry knew a sadistic, twisted mind lurked behind his calm brown eyes, calm brown eyes like melted chocolate, hateful, painful, calm brown eyes.

His wand was slick in his hand where he clutched it. The memories- the sensations of those strong hands, the magically enlarged cock, that fetish for breath play- sent a fine tremor of fear skating through his insides. Furious with himself for giving in to that fear, he swept a sweaty hand across his brow and tightened his grip on his wand.

The spell was a complex one, something of his own design. It was a combination of nine or so other spells. Each, on their own, was simple and generally innocuous, but combined they created an effect which would send any man to his knees.

Just the effect Harry was hoping for.

Upon further consideration, he had realized it simply wouldn't do to have each of the men come upon their affliction at various points in the day, so had opted instead to add in a spell which enabled him to trigger the effect on the men en masse. He would have to remember to inform Fudge that the supposed well-wisher who had set the spells in the first place had wanted to ensure the men were arrested atop having their balls blown up, so he had designated a certain time and day so that the sudden pouring in of men with exploding testicles would be so suspicious it would simply _have_ to be looked into.

This well-wisher, Harry supposed, would have known that eventually somebody would have to look into the backgrounds of the men and at least a few of the men would have something connecting them to the House. And paired with the fact that the House of Serenity was conveniently founded three decades ago on the day Harry designated The Great Balls Explosion, the likelihood that the men would be at least looked into was high.

Harry smirked at his own genius, hoping it wouldn't appear too convenient for Fudge. Then he remembered how thick Fudge had a tendency to be, and knew that he was safe from suspicion.

He had wanted to be sure his spell had hit its target, and had included a very weak, very brief tickling charm in the mix. The tickling charm would cause brief sensation in the man's groin, startling him and causing him to naturally wonder at its source.

He murmured the spell beneath his breath, aiming it toward the sleazy bastard's groin. His smirk widened in satisfaction when the man shuddered and his eyes flew to search the restaurant. Harry, accustomed to blending into the crowd, casually slurped the soup before him.

Harry strode from the restaurant several minutes later, when he was sure the man had discounted the experience, and dissolved into only slightly sane laughter.

This was going to be so much fun!

* * *

_A/N: Probably only about 2 chapters left... Please review! I'll miss the fanfiction world so much, I need to go out with a bang (or a few reviews, at least!)_


	46. can sometimes override our very beliefs

_A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I'm SO delighted to have some new readers! And new reviewers! I check my email every chance I get just hoping for reviews ;) _

_Although... __I hope you all don't hate me for this chapter... Harry behaves a little... questionably. :/_

_ ::hides::_

* * *

Fudge had fallen for the bait and a thorough investigation followed the Curious Incident of the Balls of Dynamite.

Draco had been called in to give his testimony of the events surrounding the placement of the spell, but had admitted that he was never informed of the spell but that yes, each of those men were unusually violent. He was able to identify each of them in a lineup, and was able to give detailed accounts of all the ways their behavior hinted at criminal tendencies. After the public outcry of the atrocities they had inflicted upon Draco, many were fired from their jobs, divorced, or outright arrested, if the Ministry was able to find grounds. Unfortunately, simply liking what they insisted was "just kinky sex" was not grounds for arrest. However, Harry was rather persistent, and eventually enough was discovered about each of the major players that he was able to put them behind bars for a rather long time. The breath play bunny had been stealing large amounts of money from his employers. Another was wanted for several counts of rape and one count of murder in the first degree. A handful others were also wanted for rape in a handful of other countries.

It was only during the widespread investigation that Draco discovered a startling secret about the House of Serenity.

Madam Drowry was no fool. She knew that setting down a house of slavery and forced prostitution in any one destination was limiting her business. Instead, she had had designed a rather complex way of spreading the influence of her business.

She had set up shops in seven different countries and over seventy different cities. She had bought a legitimate store in each of her chosen destinations and set inside each of the doorways a very powerful sort of portal which seamlessly spilled a customer onto the front stoop of the House of Serenity's main base. So she was able to cater to multiple countries without actually bothering with multiple locations.

Draco had shuddered to learn that though he had thought himself in London, he had actually been physically located in a small portion of Frankfurt.

It had been three weeks since they had discovered the poison, and no progress had been made. Harry became increasingly agitated with his inability to figure out the problem. He glared at the paperwork. There was nothing that would help them in it, but he had to read through it five hundred times nonetheless.

Suddenly his entire body stiffened. He snapped his eyes around the office - he was at Ministry headquarters working, because it had become increasingly difficult to keep his hands off Draco - and an idea formed in his mind. Only a few of his men were actually in the office, as most of them preferred to work out of Harry's house, and those few were relatively close friends of his. He knew they would back him up if something happened unpleasantly.

He stood from the desk and snagged one of the evidence candles from the display. He had stared at them for what seemed like hours, willing them to betray their secrets. Yet until that moment, no inspiration had come to him. He had been fooling with the idea for a week now, his frustration and fury roiling around in him, and suddenly was decided. There was no time like the present.

Dean looked up as he passed, curious as to Harry's sudden motion. "Where..?" Dean began, but the fury in Harry's every motion silenced him. Instead he followed closely behind Harry as the raven fury stormed toward the cell where the prisoner was kept chained. With a nod Harry dismissed the dementor who had been posted on a temporary basis outside the room, and slammed his way into the cell.

"Tell me what you meant by the poison making Draco unable to enjoy sex," he snapped.

Derek laughed. "Never," he responded coolly. "You'll just have to wait and see." His greedy eyes appraised Harry. "Frustrated that such a beautiful bitch is off-limits?" he guessed, and received a slap across the mouth in return. Harry's fury was roiling at full-temperature, and he would not be dissuaded from his decision.

Dean came up behind Harry. "What are you doing?" Dean demanded, sensing the reckless behavior of Harry was leading somewhere.

Harry rubbed his lips. "Leave, close the gates, and turn off the video," he commanded.

Dean glimpsed the candle in his hand. "Harry…"

"Leave, close the gates, and turn off the video!" Harry snapped, his voice wrought from steel. "Now!"

Dean sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue. "I hope you know what you're doing." He left, closed the gates, and turned off the video recording. But he kept an eye on the monitor, unwilling to abandon his commander completely.

Harry jerked the candle out of the bag. "You recognize this, right?" he asked.

Derek was suddenly less sure of himself. "Yeah, what's it to you?"

"That's such a foolish line, by the way," Harry snapped. He waved his hand and lit the wick. "So I'm assuming you know that this is one of the laced candles?"

Derek nodded, his eye following the flame as it ate its way down the wick.

Harry smiled cruelly, and in a flash his hand lashed out, wandlessly opening a gash on Derek's chest. His shirt parted and blood flowed.

Harry tilted the fast-melting candle over the wound.

"No!" Derek screamed, suddenly understanding. "Stop it! That's not legal!"

"Do you really think I care what's legal?" Harry snarled, and cut him again, pouring even more wax over the wounds. "You're fucking with an innocent man's life, here. I'm tired of it! You know how to cure the poison, and if you're not willing to share it for him, then maybe you'll do it for yourself."

Derek seemed to realize the restrictions placed on Harry by the nature of the poison. "But you don't know how to trigger it," he cackled, and the pain no longer affected him. Harry swept away the excess wax and bent over Derek, forcing the chained man to meet his eyes levelly.

"There are a few ways that a normal male can enjoy sex," he snarled, and dropped to his knees before Derek.

Fear welled within Derek as he realized Harry's intention. "You wouldn't!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "You can't! You won't! You're not going to damage your pure little mouth sucking off a prisoner!"

Harry leveled his glare on Derek. "Actually, for once, you're right. I'm not."

He flicked Derek's fly down, spat into his own palm, then dipped his hand inside.

Derek let out a startled scream as he felt Harry's fingers slide down his cock. He tried to buck away, his fear of the poison overriding the pleasure of Harry's warm saliva-slick hands, but couldn't hold out for long. He felt his erection growing and shuddered. "You won't. You won't jerk a prisoner off. You won't jerk off someone like me. You wouldn't. You won't. Please, don't!"

Harry watched him closely. He didn't seem concerned with the fact that he had an erection, which suggested that the trigger was more than that.

Harry closed his hand around the heat beneath his palm, forcing his revulsion down and concentrating on the task at hand.

Derek screamed and bucked, but only succeeded in shoving his cock further into the inviting warmth around him. He shuddered hard and felt his hips pumping his cock rhythmically into Harry's hand against his better judgment. He shook his head and forced himself to still. But he hadn't had release in weeks, and he was used to nightly exploits with the others.

He was seriously horny.

Harry felt him regain control and rolled his thumb around the head of Derek's cock, drawing his fingers slowly up the length. He squeezed softly as he rolled his wrist, and felt Derek lose control again. He began to buck into Harry's fist frantically, his hips betraying his survival instinct.

"Stop it! You won't! You can't!"

Harry rolled his thumb faster, proving that he had every intention of following through.

Derek's hips pumped harder, and Harry felt himself wanting to gag, but forced his throat under control. He worked his other hand into Derek's pants and clutched Derek's balls in his fingers, rolling them once.

Derek screamed the name of the cure as he exploded across Harry's wrist.

Harry stood quickly and flung the vile fluid across Derek's face. He felt nausea rise in his throat and fought not to vomit.

"Please, sir, please don't let me go through that. Please, give me the cure. Please. I'm begging you, here."

"We have to test it somehow," Harry snapped. "How long does the poison take to take effect?"

Derek's scream of agony was his only response.

Harry nodded in satisfaction and left the room, nausea rolling in his stomach and cum still dripping from Derek's chin.

"Harry!" Dean gasped, and met Harry outside the gate. "You fucking idiot! What were you thinking? What if he has some kind of disease? What if…"

"Just get the fucking cure brewing and test it on that sick son of a bitch."

"I already have," Dean reported.

"Well, good. I'm going to go throw up my liver, now," Harry informed him, and fled to the bathroom.

Dean followed closely, torn between fury, disgust, and worry. He knew that what Harry had done could get them all fired, but suddenly didn't care, because in that moment his mind cleared, and he could see everything in perspective.

"You really love him, don't you?" he questioned over the sound of Harry's vomiting. He shook his head incredulously. "I cannot believe you just jerked off a fucking prisoner."

"Go see about his symptoms," Harry requested between heaves. "I need to know whether he's faking. Look for physical signs."

"Yes, sir," Dean relented, his voice defeated.

"And Dean?"

He turned. "Yes, sir?

"Can you get me a toothbrush? And a gallon or two of antibacterial hand soap?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Dean?" he called again, just as Dean was about to leave; Dean turned again.

"Yes, sir?"

"Please don't tell the others."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Dean?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Dean?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Draco greeted Dean with a smile as the other walked in, but his pleasure quickly faded as he saw the brooding look on Dean's face.

"What did he do?" he demanded, and Dean's eyes flew wide, too startled to hide the truth. Draco saw, in that moment, fear of discovery and confusion as to how the hell he knew so fast.

He snorted. "I was only joking, Dean. But obviously Harry has actually done something incredibly stupid, for you to have had that reaction."

Dean tried to cover his telltale reaction, but failed miserably. "No, he didn't. Seriously."

"What did he do?"

Dean floundered for an explanation he could live with, his mind working double time, but he simply couldn't get out of it.

"I'm sorry, he sent me for something and I'm kind of in a hurry. We'll talk later."

Draco attempted to halt him but Dean was having none of it. He jetted out of the room, and Draco was too startled to follow. Besides, Draco reasoned, he said he'd say later.

It wasn't until Dean raced back out the door with Harry's toothbrush and some hand soap clutched in his hands did he begin to think perhaps waiting would drive him crazy with curiosity.

He clicked his tongue and glanced around the room. Most of the guys had stationed themselves at various points in the room while they worked on their options. Draco felt sorry for them.

"I'll cook dinner for whoever is willing to take a break long enough to eat," Draco offered suddenly, unable to sit around and watch while they all worked overtime, hardly sleeping, in order to find a solution for _his _problem. Several heads snapped up in interest, and Draco grinned. "Come on, you haven't lived until you've tasted my cooking. Who's hungry?"

Each of the guys glanced around at each other, hesitant.

"If Harry gets mad, I'll take the blame," he promised.

Everyone raised his hand.

Draco smiled widely. "Perfect! Your break starts now and doesn't end until you've eaten every bite!"

Everyone stood, stretching cramped muscles and casting loathing glares at the paperwork.

"You're a doll, Draco," Seamus piped up, his smile nearly as wide as Draco's.

"What're you cooking?" Neville asked.

* * *

Harry stormed into the house furiously, his robes billowing in a way reminiscent of his Potions professor. He slammed his way into the dining hall, not noticing that each and every one of his men had frozen utterly, forks halfway to their mouths or hastily hid behind their backs, the moment he'd come through the door. He made a beeline for the opposite wall, ripping down the portrait there and shredding it into three strips before proceeding to shred it even more.

Several forks clattered to the floor or table, their owners too startled to continue holding them.

Tears streamed down Harry's face, his eyes bloodshot and red. He didn't bother to stem the flow.

As the first strip fell to the floor, its paint-heavy surface making it thud as it settled, Harry let out a scream to rival the full moon howl of the werewolf.

Fire leapt to life on the ends of his fingers, and he ignited the torn strips furiously.

Dean hurried into the room, horrified to see that the men were too shell-shocked to leave the room to give Harry some privacy.

"Get out!" he snapped, and the room was deserted within moments. "Harry, stop that, stop that now!"

A crystal decanter and wine set was swept off the table it was on by a wave of Harry's arm, and he fell against the little table, his chest heaving with sobs and fury.

"Harry!" Dean warned, his voice low. "Stop it. You couldn't help it. It wasn't your fault!"

"It was my idea to do that to him, Dean!" Harry screamed, the first words he had spoken. "Me! My idea, my fist, my decision!"

"You couldn't have known he wouldn't have time…"

"I! _Tortured! Him! To! Death!_"

Dean cringed at this blunt way of viewing the situation.

"No, you didn't, Harry. You gave him chances to tell you before you…"

"He died the worst type of death in recorded history, and I did that to him!"

Dean clutched Harry's shoulders. "You gave him chances," he insisted. "It's his fault it had to go that far."

Harry attempted to knock his hands away, but Dean held fast. "You warned him that you would do it! He was the only one who knew how fast the poison would work, and still he chose to take his chances."

Harry shook his head, denying the obvious steadfastly. "It was my hand," he snapped.

Dean shook him, knocking his shoulders against the wall. "Harry, listen to me! He knew how long the cure took to brew and he knew how long the poison took to take effect! He should have known there wasn't enough time!"

Harry tried again to knock his hands away.

Dean wasn't sure whether he should be glad or annoyed when he realized Draco was still in the room.

"It was my idea!" Harry insisted. "I should have just let the guys keep working!"

"To what end? We still wouldn't know if it worked!"

"We don't now!" Harry snarled.

"You think he was lying?"

"I don't know!"

"We researched it, Harry! That poison was known as Death Of Agony. The only known antidote is the one he named."

"But…"

"I'm going to test it on another of the prisoners," Dean decided abruptly.

"No, you…"

"I'm not going to. Just listen to me. If you hold the antidote in one hand and the candle in the other, you can make him take care of it himself," he reasoned. "The first act will be the same, but the second will have less director involvement."

"But…"

"We have to know if it works," Dean snapped, his voice brooking no argument.

"And if it doesn't? You'll have killed another one of the prisoners, for nothing. We can't just…"

"We've got three more," Dean deadpanned.

"They're human beings!" Harry objected.

Dean nodded over to where Draco was standing, eyes wide and the rest of his body trembling. "No, Harry, Draco is human. They were no humans. They knowingly inflicted that on him, and he had no idea. They wanted him to die with no idea of what the hell was happening to him. He was imprisoned in a whorehouse, Harry. Every day of his captivity there was risking his life, because of those _supposed men._"

Harry shook his head.

"That sick son of a bitch wanted Draco to go through that death," Dean reasoned.

Harry dropped his head and fell against the wall, his weight supported by it and Dean's grip on his arms.

"I killed him, Dean," Harry whispered.

Dean's eyes were furious. "Good. He deserved worse."

Harry shook his head. "I killed him, I killed him by… oh, God!"

He doubled over, and Dean, having enough experience with drunk people to know the signs of someone about to vomit, let him, stepping back quickly. Harry fell to the floor and heaved, but nothing came up. His stomach had long since been emptied by his heaving immediately after the event.

"He was a human being, and I killed him!"

Draco chose that moment to speak. "Harry, you won't find me mourning him. I'm just sorry I wasn't there to see him die. It would have been entertaining."

Harry was horrified. "Draco, you don't know what you're saying. You don't know what I've done…"

Draco cut him off. "You poisoned one of the prisoners with the candle then jerked him off to determine the trigger. Then you didn't have time to brew the counter-potion so he died."

Harry cringed. "Okay, so you have an idea, but you're… you're not that cruel, you can't say you would have enjoyed…"

"No, Harry, _I'm_ not that cruel but _they are_! They tried to torture me in so many fucking ways! They weren't content to just rip me open, they wanted to rip me open and burn what remained of me. They _put this poison in me_! They aren't content with destroying my sense of self, they want me to _die_ if I ever had sex again! In other words, the moment I was happy again, they want me to die a miserable death! Do you think those men are _human_? Those men are no type of human! They are demented fucking animals, worthless wastes of space and resources. So yes, call me cruel if you think that's what I am, but I spare no grief for the demise of such a creature! If wanting them to suffer at least once in their fucking miserable lives after they put me through so much physical and mental hell makes me cruel, then so I am! But you don't know the things they said to me, Harry! _I want to cut a hole in your stomach and fuck you there. I want to rip your jaw off trying to get into your mouth. I want to watch you die while I'm fucking your throat. _That is no fucking human talking!"

He was trembling, fury and pain and agony losing him in his memories. He hadn't even realized that Harry had moved closer to him until he felt Harry's hands against his shoulders. But he was in no mood to be comforted. He shook the hands away and continued.

"I say you test the antidote on one of those sick fuckers then just test the poison on the others! I don't care what you think of me, just know this: if I had gotten my hands on a wand while I was in their clutches, Neville's parents would have nothing on them!"

Harry turned between the two, completely torn. "I… am… an… auror! I'm supposed to protect and serve. Now that I've… I've killed a prisoner, a man who was chained and completely at my mercy, what does that make me? One of them. Just like them."

Draco's fury slid away, and he made his way to Harry, wrapping his arms around Harry's trembling form. "No, Harry. No. You're not. You're nothing like them. This, this guilt ripping you apart, separates you from them. Nothing could make you one of them. I understand your hesitance to ignore the laws you work daily to protect, but what is done is done. And I'm sorry if it disappoints you, but I'm not sorry you broke those laws. I am only sorry that you are so upset because of it. Because you doing what you did could very well save my life. You remember how close that redheaded son of a bitch got to me, Harry. What if one of the others gets the same idea?"

Harry shuddered with the memory. He hated to admit it, but he had tried to forget the event. Yet the redhead, Avery McCullough, had been hell-bent on forcing Draco to enjoy his attentions.

Avery had nearly triggered the poison, Harry realized.

"Oh, God," he moaned, clutching Draco more tightly.

Draco's lips twitched. "I'm okay," he assured Harry once again. "Please, just forget about the bastard," he begged.

"Derek," Harry supplied.

Draco tensed. "What?"

"Derek. His name was Derek. The man I killed."

Draco seemed to sag against Harry. "That's good news," he assured Harry. "He was the worst among them. Haiman was their ring leader, but Derek… he was the most violent, when it came down to it."

Harry bent his head against Draco. "I'm sorry."

Draco smiled and grazed Harry's cheek with his lips. "Me too."

Harry took a deep calming breath. "The potion takes two months to brew; there are two ingredients which have to be picked at the full moon and can't be added together."

The blonde groaned. "Oh, lovely," he groused, and Harry's lips twitched into a smile.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the chapter if you didn't like it. Please review to let me know how you feel about it!_


	47. and lead us toward an end of our making

_A/N: Here is is. The final chapter. :( It's been quite a ride, everyone. _

_I wanted to extend a quick "Thank you!" to all of my reviewers. You've made me so happy that I decided to finish editing/posting this story. I hope I've been able to keep you guys happy with the route I took: this story, and especially the fact that I picked it up after so long, was for you guys. I was going to type of a list of those of you who've been particularly influential, but when it comes down to it, each and every one of you has helped me in your own ways. Even if I seemed not to like what you had to say, I'm glad you took the time to say it. _

* * *

The next two months were both the most stressful and the most blissful of Draco's life. He was able to relax utterly around Harry, knowing that his raven haired rescuer was not going to pressure him in any way. He had never hoped in his wildest dreams to meet someone so patient and loving as Harry proved to be.

His worries about being pressured about his unwillingness to have sex were swept aside on two fronts, the first being the poison outright forbidding it, the second being Harry's patient understanding of his predicament. Harry had taken Draco's request to set the pace of their relationship to heart, and had let Draco's moods and intentions control his reactions utterly. He had not strayed into uncharted territory a single time, instead waiting for Draco to make a move.

It was during those two months that Draco became ever more convinced that he was willing to further his relationship with Harry. He was tired of having to relive the memories of his imprisonment whenever he became aroused, and instead wanted to create memories with the man he had for so long yearned for, for so long loved, to chase away the pain and fear. He knew that Harry would be as considerate in regards to their physical relationship as ever, even when Draco gave him permission to up the ante, and longed to experience all that Harry had to offer.

His delicious anxiety about the upcoming antidote humbled him and made him eager to hurry through the days; he docilely took his sleeping draughts and did any task members of the detachment set to him, hoping that by keeping busy he could ignore the ever-slow passage of time.

Which was why, two months later, as Harry pulled him into his own room and solemnly passed a tiny vial of potion to him after their evening meal, Draco was for a long moment baffled. His brows furrowed over his silver eyes for a brief moment before realization struck him and his breath left him. "It's ready?" he asked hollowly, hesitant to dare to hope. He dropped himself into the chair beside the fireplace and gazed, his feelings tumultuous and torn, down at the tiny vial.

Harry nodded slowly. "Dean went quite against my orders. He told the prisoners that either they jerked off and became test subjects for the antidote or they didn't cooperate and they didn't get the antidote. He tested the antidote at both stages, before and after it is triggered, and at varying intensities. It took care of it all. None of the others had any lasting injuries."

Draco wasn't sure how to feel. On the one hand, he would be incredibly relieved to be rid of the fear of abruptly and painfully dying, but on the other, his fear of Harry perhaps pressuring him returned tenfold.

"Draco, please know that even after you take that potion, I will never expect anything more from you than you are prepared and wanting to give. You know that I would rather die than hurt you."

The blonde relaxed immediately, equally amazed and amused by Harry's uncanny ability to understand him and anticipate his fears.

"I know," he murmured in response. He steeled himself and gestured to the tiny vial. It looked so small and unassuming, completely powerless when compared to the poison he knew was waiting within him. "So do I just swallow it, or…" he let his voice trail off, let Harry fill in instructions.

"Yep. Just swallow it. There's supposed to be a tingling sensation, but it's not supposed to hurt very badly."

Draco let out a shaky laugh. "How comforting," he breathed, and attempted to uncap the vial with hands that were even more unstable than his laugh.

Harry resisted the urge to assist, knowing somehow that Draco needed to do this on his own.

When finally the cap was wrested free, Draco took a slow breath to calm himself. His fear of the unknown, for some reason, was curling through his mind and causing him to hesitate. He chided himself for his foolishness, knowing that this potion was going to free him of a terrible thing, not able to understand why he was afraid of it, not able to understand why he didn't want to drink that tiny vial of liquid. Yet one look into Harry's honest and ever-supportive eyes steeled his resolve. He tipped the lip of the vial to his mouth and threw it back in one abrupt swallow.

It tasted like cat piss, or how he imagined cat piss would taste. But the taste quickly fell from his mind as he felt the first tremors of reaction within his body. At first it felt simply like he had been tossed onto a massaging chair. His body twitched and vibrated with sensation. But within moments the slight tremors sharpened, and he was trembling violently. His arms wrapped about himself in an attempt to hold himself together, for it felt as though his body was attempting to shake itself to the core. Yet there was no pain, as Harry had promised, and as Harry's strong arms reached to encircle him to offer what little comfort they could, the tremors passed as quickly as they had come. He relaxed against Harry with a groan of relief, startled by the intensity of his trembling. He realized dimly that Harry was asking him whether he was alright, but wasn't sure how to respond, exactly. He felt shaken, startled from the normalcy that was his life, and thrown into chaos within his own body.

"It'll pass," Harry whispered brusquely into his ear, holding him tightly. Draco opened his mouth to object but already could feel the confusion and near-panic leaving him. He blew out a slow breath and only then realized he had been holding it.

"You're okay," Harry murmured, to reassure both Draco and himself.

Draco smiled shakily. "That was weird. But I'm okay. It was just… apparently the strongest death potion in the world doesn't like to be countered."

Harry quirked a grin.

"So I'm all better, now, right? That's all? There's nothing more to it?"

His eyes sought out Harry, who was bobbing his head in agreement. He smiled crookedly. "Cool," he decided, and recapped the tiny vial.

"You feel alright? No dizziness, aching, nausea?"

"Nothing. I feel fine."

There was a hesitant knock at the door, and Dean poked his head around the corner. "You alright, Draco?" he asked worriedly.

Draco tossed him a grin. "Fine," he agreed. He rose from the chair and strode to shake Dean's hand. "Thank you for everything you've done for me," he murmured, and his deep gratitude was etched in his eyes.

"It was nothing," Dean shrugged, but his pleased grin belied his modesty. Draco tugged him into a one-armed hug, their right hands still clasped.

"You're a good friend," Draco murmured, and they shared wide grins.

Harry smiled at the pair happily. He had feared, for most of his life, that if ever in the impossible event that he and Draco should become close, there would be friction between his friends and Draco. His time at Hogwarts had only solidified his fears as the years rolled by. But then, in light of the group's maturity, the chances of Draco being accepted into the circle of Harry's friends had increased. Severus, though still regarded with a healthy fear of his infamous temper, had been accepted among them; thus, the likelihood that Draco, once he had proven himself on their side, would be accepted in the same way, had given Harry hope. He had watched as those he considered his friends, a wide and varied group of Hogwarts students and aurors alike, had allowed Draco's unassuming timidity and kind nature to win them over. They had taken to the new and improved Draco with ease, accepting him and forgiving his past.

He snapped out of his daze as Draco made his way back to Harry's side. Dean had since left the two alone again, and Harry was happy for the privacy. He wanted to wrap Draco within his arms and hold him until they both fell asleep, his heart too battered, bruised, and worried to permit him to think clearly. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with and close to his beautiful Draco.

"You look exhausted," Draco murmured.

"Look who's talking," Harry returned.

Draco smiled lightly and tugged on Harry's hand, leading him to the bed.

They clamored beneath the comforter and Draco curled himself against Harry. All was right in the world, Draco thought drowsily. His tormenters were, in general, behind bars. His body was free of poison. His memories were safely tucked out of conscious thought. And the love of his life was holding him close.

* * *

Harry stirred awake slowly, confused as to what exactly had awakened him. All was silent in the manor, and nothing was obviously wrong. He realized slowly that something was missing. Draco's solid warmth no longer was curled within his arms.

He sat up abruptly and snatched his wand from the nightstand, but a small sound from the area of the fireplace stilled his hand. It sounded like a tiny whimper.

"Draco?" Harry asked softly, shucking the blankets and shuffling over toward the sound.

He saw the dim outline of Draco stand from the chair, and stilled. "Are you okay?"

Harry couldn't see Draco's expression in the dim, but he suddenly was under the impression that he was the object of a joke.

His suspicion was confirmed when that small sound erupted again. It was a laugh.

"I knew you'd wake up the minute I left," Draco murmured, and Harry could scarcely make out the silhouette of the blonde as he strode to stand directly in front of Harry.

"Why did you leave?" Harry asked, his hands automatically reaching to glide across Draco's arms.

"So that you would wake up, I suppose," Draco replied, amusement plain in his voice.

"You could have just woken me."

"But that wouldn't be nearly as much fun as testing you."

"Testing me how?"

Draco's lips found Harry's in the darkness.

"Are you still tired?" Draco asked after a long moment.

Harry snorted. "Hardly," he returned.

Draco curled his fingers into Harry's hair and tugged his face closer. "Good," he sighed, and his lips trailed down Harry's chin.

"Why?" Harry asked breathlessly, his mind reeling with the effect of Draco's kisses.

"Because I'm ready," Draco growled, and his teeth set into the mark on Harry's neck. Any objection Harry was tempted to make was washed away beneath the onslaught of pleasure. His knees trembled and the only thing holding him steady was his grip on Draco's arms.

Draco's hands trailed lower, his fingertips curling around the hem of Harry's shirt, tickling Harry's belly as they did, and began to slowly peel the cloth upward. Harry shuddered another breath and gave Draco a tremulous grin. Draco's fingertips grazed Harry's abdomen and chest, teasingly caressing, as the shirt ascended Harry's form. Harry lifted his arms to allow Draco to pull the shirt away, smiling and settling his hands around Draco's face to gently kiss his lips when that first article of clothing had left him.

Harry stopped Draco with a hand on either wrist. "Are you sure…"

Draco smiled softly. "Harry, be quiet," he whispered, and trailed a fingertip across Harry's lips. Harry let out a shaky breath and his lips quivered against his will as Draco caressed them gently. It pleased Draco to see Harry so stricken; it made him feel powerful and desirable to see such a beautiful creature weakened at the thought of him, at the touch of his fingers.

He ghosted a soft kiss across Harry's lips and smiled when he felt another trembling breath fan his face.

Draco's fingers nimbly flicked open the button on Harry's denims before his hands circled Harry's waist and he gently massaged Harry's lower back. The raven haired man sighed dreamily and deepened the kiss as Draco's hands slithered beneath the waistband of Harry's jeans, taunting and tickling the sensitized skin there. Draco smiled against Harry's lips and resumed disrobing the other, ever-so-slowly dragging the zipper of Harry's jeans down. He slid his hands into the opening of the jeans, his hands tracing the waistband of Harry's boxers until his hands hovered over Harry's behind. He slid his hands down, his wrists cocked to catch the jeans and drag them down as well, smiling when they slithered down Harry's legs as he curled his hands around Harry's ass.

Harry let out a short moan and dropped his head onto Draco's shoulder as Draco's fingers kneaded the soft flesh beneath them, the thin covering of his boxers a poor excuse for covering from Draco's touch. Slowly Draco tugged Harry closer, steering him with the hands on his behind, until Harry's hips bumped his own.

Harry moaned again as Draco moved his fingers up, only to slide them beneath the elastic of his boxers and remove them in the same manner as the jeans, sliding his hands around the front to tug them around Harry's erection, his hands gently brushing Harry's manhood in his efforts to remove the last bit of clothing Harry wore. His hands returned to Harry's behind to finish tugging the elastic downward, and his hands once again kneaded Harry's behind, this time with no covering at all. Harry's face turned to Draco's neck and began nibbling gently, his desire thudding through his veins with the force of an elephant and making it difficult not to rip Draco's clothes off roughly. Draco's slow, easy motions and deliberate tenderness caused Harry's desire to sing in his veins as never before.

Draco smiled and moved away from Harry ever so slightly to begin the careful task of removing his own clothes. Harry trembled as he watched the painfully slow strip tease, conquering his desire to bunch his hands in Draco's silk shirt and shred it only with Herculean effort. Draco held Harry's eyes as he removed his own shirt, taking his time and enjoying the effect his efforts had on Harry.

He flicked the button of his jeans open, pausing to grin mischievously at the look of anticipation in Harry's eyes, and even more slowly than before slid the zipper down. The moment he had unzipped the pants and released the zipper, the heavy denim, weighted by the objects in his pockets which he had failed to remove before crawling into bed, slid off his slender form and thudded to the floor. Draco grinned as Harry jolted in surprise at the abruptness of the action.

Draco hooked his thumbs in his boxers, tugging them away from his skin to show a glimpse of his erection before letting them snap against his hips again. Harry whimpered at the tease but forced himself not to move, and Draco felt even more empowered by the soft sound of objection and the trembling in Harry's arms as he forcibly restrained himself. Draco stepped in closer to Harry once more, his hand curling around the back of Harry's neck and his lips finding Harry's own. He forced Harry's head back, supporting his head with the hand on his neck, and dipped his head further to nibble at Harry's exposed neck. Harry moaned, a long, slow sound, as Draco's teeth found, once again, the mark on Harry's neck.

With Harry lost in the pleasure the mark sent spiraling through his veins, Draco dropped the last barrier between himself and Harry- his own boxers- and gently edged Harry toward the bed. He paused when the backs of Harry's knees bumped the comforter, letting Harry ease himself fully onto the bed. Draco let his eyes rove the beauty of the man quivering before him before slowly crawling atop the bed and his quarry. He took care to crawl slowly, enjoying the eagerness in Harry's eyes, and positioned himself astride Harry, his hands coiling around the back of Harry's neck to pull his face up for a long, passionate kiss.

Draco only paused to snag a bottle of lubricant from the nightstand, which he pressed into Harry's hands. Harry raised himself carefully, directing Draco into a near-kneeling position, before uncapping the bottle.

He poured a generous amount across his fingers, his lips never leaving Draco's, and carefully lowered his hand to Draco's erection.

Startled silver eyes met his own as Draco pulled away from their kiss to stare questioningly into Harry's eyes. Harry froze, his fingers halfway curled around Draco, his eyes asking whether he could continue. Draco let out a slow hollow breath and threw his head back as Harry, emboldened when Draco did not object, began to move the fingers curled around his manhood hesitantly. Draco groaned in ecstasy, his fingers curling into Harry's silky hair and his hips rocking gently in time with Harry's slow movements.

It was several long moments before his neck unbent slowly, as though he was coming out of a dream; he gently removed the bottle from Harry's hands, understanding finally what Harry intended. He had never been a top before, never penetrated another man, and had never imagined that Harry would offer him such a gift. Yet it was a gift he couldn't take; in order to conquer his fears, he had to know what it was to be penetrated by a man he loved. He curled his hand around Harry's wrist after a few glorious moments of Harry's stroking, and leaned forward to kiss Harry's lips. He shook his head silently, and smiled at Harry's concerned expression. He curled his finger's around Harry's where he held the bottle of lubricant, and tilted some onto his own palm before wrapping his hand around Harry's engorged member. The concern fled Harry's face as his head flew back in ecstasy, his hips bucking, with Draco on top, into Draco's hand. Draco grinned widely at the reaction. To feel the great Harry Potter writing beneath his hands was a heady sensation.

He continued his teasing strokes for several slow seconds before Harry seemed to regain some semblance of control over himself. Harry's eyes held a question in them, but Draco refused to let Harry's gentlemanly concern for Draco's preference spoil Harry's pleasure. He bent over his lover and nibbled his hips and belly, his mouth lavishing Harry's with licks and kisses. Harry groaned at the combined pleasure of Draco's mouth and hand, and his concern melted with his resistance. He tugged Draco until he climbed further upward, his hand leaving Harry's member, and kissed his lover deeply. It was a promise of what was to come, and it both thrilled and terrified Draco.

He shook off the fear. Here, in Harry's arms, there was no room for fear. Only joy and love.

Harry gently nudged Draco until he rolled onto his back, and immediately positioned himself atop Draco, careful to avoid appearing too dominating. Draco shuddered once, but his fear only fed his determination to be ridden by Harry; he clutched at Harry's hair and kissed him deeply as he spread his legs for Harry to kneel between. Harry was cautious, but committed. He knew that Draco was offering him a great deal of trust, after everything he'd been through. He was not going to allow his hesitance to spoil Draco's decision, or mar the experience. He knew Draco would speak up if things progressed too far; though he noticed the tremor that occasionally appeared in Draco's frame, he knew that giving attention to the fear would only serve to give it more power over Draco.

Harry set about gently but effectively preparing Draco for what was to come.

Draco forced himself to remain calm, and forced the painful memories away. Instead, he cast his mind even further into the past, to a time when he'd been so innocent about the ways of homosexuality. When he had been a student at Hogwarts and his dorm mate Blaise had revealed himself to be gay, Draco had jokingly asked Blaise how exactly two men could have sex comfortably, and had gotten a, at the time, disturbingly detailed account of the process. Now, in retrospect, Draco was grateful for Blaise's lesson, for none of the men in the House of Serenity had ever bothered to prepare him sufficiently, and Harry's following actions may have confused or alarmed him.

Harry's fingers, which were coated with liberal amounts of lube, probed Draco's opening carefully, reluctant to penetrate, scared to hurt the trusting man. Yet Draco, impatient to be past the fear and strangely thirsty for Harry to enter him, took the matter into his own hands. Curling his hand around Harry's wrist, he declared with his eyes his agreement with a slight nod. Harry, reassured by the action, gently penetrated Draco with his index finger.

Draco tensed immediately, his eyes slamming closed to hide his discomfort from Harry. Despite his attempt, Harry stilled and instead focused his attention on Draco's softening manhood. He curled his free hand around Draco and squeezed gently, pulling his hand slowly up Draco's length. Draco shuddered with the conflicting sensations; the finger inside of him felt like an intrusion, and he couldn't help but imagine one of his "customers" penetrating him. But the hand around his rapidly hardening member was so gentle and loving that he couldn't mesh his two worlds together.

He compelled his mind to zone in on the sensation of Harry stroking him, and as his eyes opened to take in the sight of Harry's face, he realized it had been a mistake to have closed his eyes. He could never hide his feelings from Harry – he was far too perceptive for that. The only thing his attempt had accomplished was to encourage the idea that the finger inside of him belonged to someone from his past; staring into Harry's loving gaze, he couldn't think of it as an intrusion. He felt his body gently relaxing. His lips quirked into a hesitant smile. Harry tightened his grip on Draco's member and as Draco gasped in pleasure he began to move his index finger slowly. Draco shuddered again, but this time in pleasure, and fell back against the pillows as Harry experimentally probed him. He found himself arching his hips to allow Harry fuller access, and without breaking contact, Harry wandlessly slid a pillow beneath his raised hips. He smiled at the tiny bit of magic and allowed himself to relax to make Harry's task easier. The combination of sensations was beginning to make sense in his body and mind.

Harry dipped his head and pressed a kiss to Draco's inner thigh. Draco's hips thrust hopefully, and Harry let out a low chuckle.

He slithered his tongue along the junction where Draco's thigh met his groin, causing Draco to whimper and shiver with the desire to thrust against the lips tormenting him. The finger inside him had long since ceased being an intrusion and was instead another instrument for his pleasure. His hips wiggled experimentally as he allowed himself to really feel the sensation of Harry's finger inside him. Harry's low chuckle sounded again, and Draco growled with frustration. He was going to die if Harry continued to torture him so.

A second finger slithered into Draco to join the first, and Draco tensed, although barely. But Harry continued to kiss and then nibble his thighs and belly, returning the loving torture Draco had previously inflicted onto Harry. The pleasure returned much more rapidly than it had the first time; Draco hardly missed a beat before he began wriggling his hips to the sensation of two of Harry's fingers inside him. He felt the sudden urge to increase the tempo of Harry's fingers sliding into his ass, and braced his feet on the bed to do so. After a few moments he had developed a rhythm to his thrusts, and Harry encouraged it. Thrust up into Harry's hand on his cock, and down onto Harry's fingers in his ass. The slow pace began to be torturous for Draco, who began to crave more. Harry sensed his growing impatience and grinned. The sight of Draco abandoning his hesitance and devoting himself to the sensation of Harry's loving caresses warmed Harry's heart. The last thing he'd want is for Draco to be thinking of his tormentors while Harry tried to make love to him. But it was obvious that at this point that they were nowhere on Draco's mind.

Harry took a deep breath to control himself. He wanted more than anything to drag Draco close and take the blonde without further ado, but knew he had to prepare his blonde nymph more carefully than he'd ever done so before. If he progressed a second too soon, he could lose Draco's trust forever; the idea was like an ice bath across his nerves. He had to shake himself from the fear of losing Draco because of his own carelessness. He refused to cause Draco that type of pain.

Only after Draco seemed utterly relaxed with two fingers inside of him did Harry take another step forward. A third finger joined the second. This time, though Harry saw a flash of perfectly natural pain cross Draco's face, he knew that there was no fear. Draco was still with him, and not in his past. His hand on Draco's manhood increased its pace slightly to make up for the increase of pressure inside Draco.

A thin sheen of sweat had erupted across Harry's skin. He felt himself trembling, knew that he was pushing the limits his of control, but also knew that there was no way in hell he would let himself lose control with Draco. Never with Draco.

Suddenly Draco grasped his hand in his own, tugging gently, and Harry stilled both his hands. He saw lust blazing in Draco's eyes, and he was rocked by the intensity of it. Draco tugged again, and Harry snapped out of his distraction and gently disentangled himself from Draco. Draco gently drew Harry atop him, his mouth parting on a pant of pure lust.

Draco dragged Harry's lips to his own, kissing the tantalizing brunette fiercely, showing him just how much he wanted him.

"Just do it," he rasped, the first words either of them had spoken since Draco had begun to remove their clothing.

"I don't want to hurt you, my love," Harry whispered.

Draco grinned devilishly at him. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Harry groaned, and arched his hips against Draco. Draco kissed his lover passionately for a long moment before lowering his head to the mark on Harry's neck.

"No," Harry objected, afraid that he would not be able to be gentle with the torment of the mark's influence. Yet Draco paid him no heed, and his lips settled over the mark anyway. Harry whimpered and arched his hips gently against Draco's ass, felt Draco positioning himself against him, felt his mind spinning with pleasure. He complied with Draco's obvious wishes, his hips pressing him gently forward, straining against the ring of muscle at Draco's entrance, shuddering in ecstasy when it gently permitted him access. Draco's teeth sank into the mark at the same moment he pressed past Draco's opening. The two of them shuddered simultaneously, and Harry knew that later, he would worry about Draco's shudder. But Draco let out a low murmur and Harry continued to press forward, gently rocking his hips closer to his lover's body.

When he had fully seated himself within Draco's body, he continued to wriggle his hips in no particular pattern in order to prolong the sensation of Draco's teeth on his neck and his body squeezing Harry's cock. He buried his face in the pillow beneath Draco's head and let out a strangled scream of ecstasy. He felt Draco grin against his neck. He tore Draco's mouth from his throat and kissed him wildly, frantic to taste every inch of the blonde's mouth. He trailed his mouth lower, kissing and nibbling along Draco's jaw and onto his throat. Draco panted, not trusting himself to move, as Harry trailed hot frantic kisses along his neck.

Harry began to move gently, carefully withdrawing when he realized he had not injured his lover with his penetration, and in an instant the pleasure became too much. He sank his teeth into Draco's neck, both to keep from crying out and simply because suddenly nothing else in the world made more sense, and felt his magic pour into the bite. He suckled and bit, the motions reminiscent of the mark Draco had left on his neck all those months ago. He trembled with the force of the drain and felt as though his very soul was being dragged into Draco's neck. Draco momentarily stilled against Harry, his eyes closed with the ecstasy of Harry's teeth in his neck and Harry's cock in his ass, so intimately locked, so deliriously erotic, so dangerously pleasurable. For a long moment, neither man could move, so caught in the moment were they; their experience was beyond pleasure, beyond orgasm, beyond nirvana, it seemed. They shuddered as one, locked together and never wanting to move from that embrace, never wanting to abandon the feeling of being removed from their bodies and suspended in air, their souls entwined, their minds melded. They were as one in that blinding moment of ecstasy, and it was as though nothing in the world could separate them.

Yet physical need intruded, and both men returned to themselves with gasps and groans. Harry withdrew his teeth from Draco, his breath short and his arms trembling. He knew that he should be gentle with Draco, knew that Draco had never willingly been penetrated before, knew that Draco was not as accustomed to being a willing bottom as he himself was accustomed to being a top, but following that moment of oneness, he somehow knew that Draco was ready for more. He remembered the day in the locker room, when Draco had given him the mark he wore on his neck, and he remembered the feverish desperation with which Draco had thrust against his jean-clad ass, and in that moment, he understood. He drove himself fully into the blonde, watching Draco's eyes carefully to gauge whether he was injuring him. Draco's eyes showed only his eagerness; Harry withdrew as quickly as he had entered, then slammed himself into Draco a third time.

Draco dragged him down once more to kiss him, frantic with need and wanting. He seemed as though he would devour the raven haired man, nipping at his lips and jaw as his hips began to thrust in time with Harry's movements. Nowhere in his mind or body was the memory of his past; his entire being was focused on the phenomenal sensations Harry was milking from his body. Never before had he felt such mind-blowing waves of pleasure. They moved together fluidly, each responding perfectly to every gesture and desire of the other. Draco's hips thrust faster as Harry pounded him into the mattress with increasing fervor. Their lips never broke contact. Time seemed to stand still as their bodies pumped feverishly, and Draco, for the first time in his life, was utterly free of his past.

Harry's need for release was overpowering, yet he was careful to hold himself within the realm of reason, for Draco's sake. He moved as one with Draco, his hips arching and thrusting in time with Draco's increasing rhythm, and knew that he had never had such phenomenal sex in his entire life. It didn't take long for him to decide why nothing before compared. The only thing that mattered was his partner, the gorgeous blonde, the man he had loved for what seemed like his entire life.

Then, his fingers still thick with lubricant from preparing Draco, he curled his fingers around Draco's manhood as he rode his lover, pumping his hand to the rhythm of their thrusts. Draco groaned in raw need, overwhelmed by the sensations, his back arching him away from the bed as his body trembled with agonizing ecstasy. He cried out as it all became too much. Harry groaned as Draco's body convulsed in orgasm, the image bringing a victorious grin to Harry's lips. He dipped his head and kissed Draco's moans away as his body reacted in time to Draco's. He came with a savage groan, his hand never faltering as it milked every wave of orgasm from Draco's body, his tongue thrusting in time with his hips. He rode Draco as they both rode the wave of orgasm, and only when Draco's lips became gentle and calming against his did he still his hand and hips. He gently pulled himself away from Draco, before ducking onto his side and pulling Draco firmly into his arms. He managed not to break their kiss all the while, and only when Draco smiled at Harry's efforts did he do so. He panted as he brushed Draco's hair away from his face, kissing his nose and forehead as he did so.

It wasn't long before a realization crossed both their minds that sent their already thundering hearts into overdrive. They weren't sure where the epiphany came from, or what had inspired it, but in that moment, they knew that nothing had ever been more true in their lives.

He had found his soul mate, each realized, and his body was made to react solely to the other's touch. He was built, from the moment of his birth, to be claimed by this man, and only this man. He was born to be the instrument beneath the other's fingers, and every moment in their lives had been leading up to that one moment, their first joining, when their bodies had met as they were meant to meet, when the mark on Harry's neck was echoed by a mark on Draco's neck, two vivid marks of ownership, two clear signs of mutual possession. Having both lived lives of disappointment and lacking love, neither had never set much store in the words "soul mate," but in the time that they were entwined, nothing had ever rang truer than those two powerful words.

* * *

Lupin's eyes flew so wide that Harry wondered if he was in danger of passing out.

"Harry, wow, it's been quite a long time, hasn't it?"

Harry eyed him curiously. "Not really, no," he responded, confused as to his old friend's reaction. He had seen Remus on a semi-regular basis over the last few months.

"Well, you've certainly got a lot to tell me," Remus insisted.

Harry snorted. "Sure, if you insist. What do you mean, though?"

Remus stared at him incredulously for a long moment, and only answered when it seemed as though Harry had nothing more to offer.

"I mean," he huffed, offended. "When you found someone who was willing to settle for your cantankerous ass for the rest of their lives."

Harry blinked slowly, not understanding.

"When you found someone who was willing to swear off all other men in favor of you?"

Harry raised a brow.

"When you let someone Mark you!" Remus exploded, motioning toward the hickey on Harry's neck.

Harry blushed deeply. "Remus, really, now, it's just a hickey. It doesn't…"

Remus's eyes flew even wider. "No, young man, it most certainly is _not_! You had that Mark the last time I saw you, and I'm willing to wager it hasn't faded a damn bit, has it, nor has it responded to your attempts to heal it. Has it?"

The youth chewed his lip. "No," he admitted, and began to worry. What was Remus _talking about_? It was just a hickey… _wasn't it_?

"That's… Harry Potter, don't tell me you let someone Mark you and you didn't even realize what they were sacrificing!"

"I don't know what the ruddy hell you're talking about!" Harry snapped, his temper pricked by Remus's confusing accusations. He didn't like being accused of anything, especially something he didn't even understand.

Remus glared at the mark. "Please just tell me you didn't return it. Please, you're too young to commit yourself to one woman, Harry, you're too… but don't you even think about not returning it, if that poor woman has Marked you, you had better feel the same way about her! But you haven't gone through the Shaping ceremony yet, so you must not have returned it, but Harry you can't just _do that_ to someone, you must return it this instant, and we'll have a Shaping ceremony immediately! I mean, you can't want to have what looks like a regular old _hickey_ on your neck for the rest of your life, maybe you could Shape it into a nice phoenix, or a dragon, or something she likes? Something that would make it obvious you weren't heatless enough to _accept_ that Mark without _returning _it!"

Harry frowned fiercely. "Remus. Explain."

"You _have,_ haven't you? Oh, but Harry, you're too _young_ to have done something so foolish! I can't imagine it!"

"Remus! Explain!"

Harry was beginning to feel a bit frightened by Remus's words. What had he and Draco done?

"That Mark you wear so proudly is a mark of ultimate possession, meaning that the woman who put that mark on you is yours until her death. She has sworn herself to you utterly. She will never be able to have sex with another man for as long as you or she lives!"

"Oh, that poor woman," a voice from the doorway drawled, and Harry narrowed his eyes on Draco. "Imagine some poor lass thinking you were ever going to give her a second glance!"

"Harry!" Remus practically snarled. "Don't tell me you've been leading some poor woman on. I will simply not be able to bear it. I will never forgive you if you've accepted a Mark from someone you don't intend to be with for the rest of your life."

"Oh, no," Harry assured him, his grin devious and his eyes glinting dangerously. "I'm going to be with that bitch for as long as I can."

Draco wrinkled his nose and draped himself across Harry's lap. "That's a terrible way to propose, my love," he chided on a drawl.

Harry winked at the shell-shocked Lupin and nuzzled the matching mark on Draco's throat. "Well, then, let me try this again. Will you be my wife, Draco Malfoy?"

Draco nipped at the mark on Harry's neck in reprimand. "You're such a prat," he groused. "But how could anyone say no to that face? Especially since we've apparently unintentionally sworn ourselves to each other?"

Lupin made a choking noise in the back of his throat.

Harry gave him bland eyes. "Would you like some tea for that cough, Remus?" he asked politely. "Or better yet, champagne? It would appear we should celebrate."

Lupin blinked hard and shook his head to clear it. The scene didn't change any.

His best friend's son was still cuddling his school rival and ex-death eater in his lap, looking for all the world as though nothing at all was odd about the picture they presented.

But Harry was still staring at him as though he expected Lupin to speak. He searched his mind for the question and could find none. What had they been talking about?

Oh, a celebration. That was easy.

"Congratulations," he choked.

* * *

_The End! Hope you liked it!_

_Please review. Love you guys! _

_Steph_


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